Masters in Hiding
by Junsei-Ichi
Summary: Meet Drew: born 1984 - 24 year old First Lieutenant during the War in Iraq. Meet Drew: born 1984 - 24 year old private in World War II. Nobody is quite sure what's going on but they role with it anyway. How will Drew deal with another war with what's already happened in the past? Or is it the future now? Let's see how it goes.
1. Chapter 1

_So this is my first Band of Brothers fanfic, and my first posted fanfic for a long while. I wanted to put it up just to see how it would take. I may or may not continue it, it depends on how it goes and reviews and all that. But yeah. I hope you like it!_

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The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was bouncing around on my seat in a moving vehicle. The second thing I noticed was all the other bodies crowded around me, bumping and pressing into whoever was sitting beside them.

I started to panic quietly. What was happening? Where was I? Where am I going? This can't be happening again. It can't. _'Please God no not again!'_ I try to focus but everything was fuzzy. The air was dank and musty. I remembered my breathing; I try to do what the doctor said to do when I began to feel the panic.

Breath in through the nose -2-3-4

Hold -2-3-4

Exhale through the mouth -2-3-4

Wait -2-3-4

I tried to stay still to not draw attention to myself. These men around me were strangers and I didn't know if I could trust them.

In -2-3-4

Hold -2-3-4

Out -2-3-4

Wait -2-3-4

I continued my routine and I felt the panic slowly ebb away, clearing my mind just enough so I could finally think. The more I breath and calm down the more I notice. There was a soft murmur in the vehicle. Men were conversing with each other, some were smoking. I realized that the smoke contributed to the fuzziness of everything. Others were still asleep like I had been minutes ago. I also realized that no one else was panicked, no one was scared. Searching their faces they looked, if I could put a word to it, anxious – nervous yet excited. The more I breathed the easier it was to pick out details. The others in the truck – I could only assume it was a truck – were all men from what I could see. They were also all wearing the same kind of clothes, like a dated army uniform. A quick look down and I saw I'm wearing the same thing. At my feet and the feet of all the other men are drab green duffel bags.

Things slowly start to click together.

' _Military, definitely. Army personnel transport. But why the uniforms?'_ They looked like they belong in World War II. I tried to remember what had lead up to my waking in the truck. I think back but it doesn't make any sense to me. _'I was on leave. I was home. Why am I here? Where is here?'_ I wanted to ask somebody but given the circumstance I wasn't sure if I should. Everyone else seemed to know what was going on. And if they didn't know where they were going, which I'm betting that they did, then they were comfortable enough not knowing.

Instead of trying to figure it out by myself, and instead of asking, I decide to eavesdrop to try and get intel. I focus on the conversation of the men opposite me.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be some of the toughest training they have to offer. That's why everyone is a volunteer, they didn't want to scare anyone off by forcing it on them I guess," One man said. I looked to his nametag, which stood out white in the soft glow of multiple cigarettes. **Tipper** it read in bold stitching. The man next to him, a glance at his nametag told me he was **Mellet** , gave a puff on his own cigarette. "Christ. Do you think all this will be worth the extra fifty they're giving us? I bet they're paying us more because they know we've got to be crazy to actually volunteer."

They both laughed in agreement. More pieces were coming from my fuzzy memory and clicking in ways that shouldn't be possible. There were a few things I knew for sure, however.

1) We were in a military personnel transport truck

2) We were dressed in WWII era uniforms

3) The information regarding pay and volunteering pointed even more towards WWII

4) The information regarding pay and volunteering pointed more specifically toward the paratroopers of that time

5) An Einstein-Rosen bridge may or may not be involved in whatever was going on. Fucking wormholes. But I was willing to suspend my disbelief for the moment.

6) If the aforementioned points were true, I was thoroughly fucked.

' _Talk about six impossible things before breakfast'_ I thought. Looking down at my own nametag in curiosity I sigh in relief when I see the familiar **Masters** stitched on it. No less than a minute later I felt the truck start to slow down and come to a stop with a jerk. This caused whoever was to my left to push into me and I to push into whoever was on my right. The flap in the rear of the truck was pushed up and the soft light of either dawn or dusk hit our faces. There was an officer staring us down as the tailboard lowered allowing us all to trickle outside. When I hit the ground I finally noticed the stiffness of my apparently brand-spanking-new boots. It was going to be hell to break them in.

"As of right now it is zero-five-hundred hours." The officer's voice carried spectacularly over everyone. They all quieted immediately. "You will have until zero-five-thirty to get to your barracks and unpack your duffel bag. Trunks have been provided to you already. Find your name and you will find your bunk. Find your bunk and you will find the only place you might find solace here at Camp Toccoa. Do you understand?"

There was a conglomeration of voices that replied 'okay' and 'yeah' and a few who actually said 'yes sir.' I had to hold myself back from yelling out 'Yes, Sir' as loud as I was expected to. As soon as he said "Toccoa" I knew where I was, but more importantly I knew when I was. And it was not looking good for me. It was dangerous to stand out right now.

"When you reply to someone it's "Yes, Sir" get used to it. If you're from California "Yes, Sir." If you're from Philadelphia "Yes, Sir." Not "yeah" "yup" "okay," I know it's okay. Now do you understand?"

This time I was more comfortable yelling out "Yes, Sir," as was everyone else. Nothing like a chewing out two minutes in to get you at least somewhat straight. "We are so fucked," I heard the man next to me mutter to himself as we started walking. A quick glance at his nametag had me almost tripping. **Luz**. As the final pieces clicked into place in my head I had to agree with him. But I changed a pronoun. "We" aren't so fucked. "I" am so fucked. Einstein-fucking-Rosen bridge is right on the money apparently.

Walking over to the barracks was the easy part. Figuring out which one I belonged was… also surprising easy. _'Easy. Ha. Is it too early to start making puns?'_ I asked myself. I decided no. If this was really happening, if I was really going to be a part of one of the most famous regiments - one of the most famous companies - in Army history then I was going to make the most of it. That is, as long as I'm not actually in a coma and this is all in my head. But I had a feeling it wasn't. Anyway, the first barrack I walked into and searched had a trunk with my name on it in front of a bed in the corner. Along with my name was also my rank. _'Private? I've never been a private.'_ It was strange for me to even see it; I was a First Lieutenant last time I checked. As I began to empty my duffel into the trunk more men started to trickle in. I would like to say I recognized about half of them by their faces alone.

Liebgott, Lipton, Luz, Malarkey, Martin, Muck, Perconte, Talbert, Tipper, and Toye.

Back in West Point – the reason I was unfamiliar with being a private – some of the other cadets and I would have this tradition of watching the miniseries _Band of Brothers_ every year together on every on-campus holiday. Labor Day, Columbus Day, Veterans Day, hell even Presidents Day. Which is why I could recognize these men by their faces. They looked like the actors who portrayed their namesake. I confess, I was confused. Was I actually in the past or was I in the show? Was I in both? I decided not to bother with figuring it out. I was rolling with the punches at this point.

I continued transferring the contents of my duffel to my trunk and saw everyone else doing the same. I noticed Malarkey occupied the bunk beside mine. It was the most surreal moment I had been through since the incident. I could feel my back pull as I thought about it. But I pushed that thought to the back of my head and focused on making my things immaculately organized in my trunk.

I had just finished when someone called out "Hey guys, look at that." Tipper, I recognized, was standing on his bunk looking out the windows that ran above the lockers. Everyone moved over to my side of the barrack to also stand on bunks and look out. "I'll bet that when we finish the training program here, the last thing they'll make us do will be to climb to the top of that mountain." Currahee stood proud, dominating the landscape. Some of the other men agreed with Tipper and moved back to their own bunk. I voiced my, let's call it an opinion, on the matter.

"I doubt it," everyone turned towards me. "I bet they'll make us run it before the week is out." I knew they would.

"Oh yeah," It was Liebgott who spoke up. "What makes you say that, uh," he glanced at my trunk. "Masters?"

I shrugged. "Drew. Call me Drew. And it's just a feeling. I don't see why they wouldn't take advantage of it for training while they can."

He was about to reply when the door burst open and the infamous Lieutenant Sobel came bounding in blowing a whistle. "FALL IN!" he yelled. I was standing at attention at the foot of my bed in a second. Everyone else scrambled to do the same, all of them startled by the unexpected intrusion. But I had long since been trained to react with due haste in situations like this. Sobel stared us down like he was a predator and we were the prey. He stalked up and down the line of bunks, pausing every so often to try and intimidate a certain person. I was one of those people. He stood in front of me but I kept my face straight and my eyes forward, not even the slightest bit bothered by his presence. He looked down his hooked nose at me, willing me to mess up. But I wouldn't. When he paced back to the door he turned to address us. "Change into your PT uniform. That mountain on your doorstep is three miles to the top and three miles to the bottom. We're running it. You have two minutes to fall in outside." He left, slamming the door behind him.

I immediately turned to retrieve shorts from my trunk. I stripped off my jacket and was grateful I was already wearing a white shirt because honestly I wasn't even thinking about that. It would be something to worry about later when I wasn't under a time constraint. A quick feel and I discovered bandages under the shirt. _'I hardly had to worry about this before.'_ Stripping off my pants I quickly pulled my shorts over the army issued boxers I was wearing. Convenience was on my side this morning. I was one of the first ones done and slipped into the role I knew as a Lieutenant. "Come on men, hurry up! You have one minute to get outside – Let's go, let's go! Move it!" Inspired by my words, or freaked out that a "private" was taking charge inside the barrack, they dressed faster and high-tailed it out the door. I made sure I was the last one out, falling in the back of the block they had made with a few moments to spare. I saw the other barracks that contained Easy members were also out and ready in block formation.

Sobel came around the corner in his own PT uniform and looked almost taken aback when he saw everyone was there. He stalked to the front of the block and lead us to the base of the mountain. "You will follow my lead. You will take the exact path that I take. I will not allow shortcuts to be taken in my company." He turned and started running up the path and we diligently followed. It was grueling pace for the first time running. Grueling for most anyway. This was a hard pace to keep for me only because I was slowing down to not completely over take everyone. My conditioned legs and determination begged me to go faster. I probably could have made this run in the fifty minutes Easy would eventually be able to do. This also wasn't my first time running this mountain. Memories of when I was sixteen and my dad taking me here surfaced in my mind.

I had cried when I made it to the top and touched the stone for the first time. I cried for all the men who had done it before. For all the men who could no longer do it. I cried for the bravery they held when facing what they had to for their country. They were more than men, they were hero's. So I cried for them and all they went through.

And now as I run beside the men I had only dreamed of becoming like, I felt the urge to cry again. But I didn't. I wanted to be brave like them so I would be.

"Hey, Masters," someone called from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Luz.

"I told you, call me Drew," I corrected him.

He sped up a little to run beside me. He was panting harshly while I was only winded. We were almost at the top. "Drew. How did you know we were gonna be running this god-forsaken mountain?" he asked, clearly struggling to get the words out. "Are you psychic or something?"

I huffed out a laugh. "Or something," I said to answer his question.

As we got farther to the top the path became thinner; everyone had to get in a single file line to fit. When I finally got to the top I was one of the first ones to touch the stone. It was a great feeling to do it again. The run back down the mountain was leaps and bounds easier. There was small talk between the men and me. Some from my own barrack like Malarkey, Muck, and Luz were introduced as Don, Skip, and George. Some from other barracks like Randleman and Guarnere were introduced as Bull and Bill.

At the bottom of Currahee we were instructed to fall in and wait at attention until everyone had arrived. It had to have been at the least another half hour before everyone was accounted for. Everyone who had just arrived was still breathing heavily. Those who had a chance to cool down while waiting were breathing steady again.

Sobel, of course, yelled at us for our incompetence. "Two hours. It took two hours for everyone to make it back. That is not acceptable! Do I have a bunch of weaklings in my company!? I will not tolerate scrawny men who will only drag Easy down! Tell me now if you can't handle it. We'll send you back home so you can cry to your mommies about how hard being a paratrooper was!" He went on for another minute until he ordered us to fall out for breakfast.

When we got into the mess hall there were men from the other companies already there. It didn't seem like they had a morning run; they were still dressed in in what they arrived in. They were probably lucky enough to have had a morning lecture. Needless to say we drew attention to ourselves, meandering through the door later than everyone else, dressed for PT and already sweating through our clothes. Ignoring them we filed toward the cooks, grabbed a tray, and waited for food to be slopped on our plates. Coffee accompanied the potato looking patty… thing, as well as toast and eggs. We snagged the last few empty tables and immediately stared chowing down, conversations forgotten in our hunger. It might not have been the kind of breakfast I was used to but I never left good food to waste. Everything was gone from my plate in ten minutes.

After breakfast we were ordered to change back into our ODs. Those of us in Easy were finally given our introduction lecture. It wasn't anything too serious. They gave us a rundown of what was expected of us, what was going to happen training wise, and then a warning of if we fail anything at any point we will be kicked out of the paratrooper program and we couldn't come back. Basic stuff. It took about another two hours to complete.

After the lecture it was back into our PT gear. We were separated into our platoons and sent off for calisthenics. This is what I was actually looking forward to. I could excel at this, I trained myself to go above and beyond what was expected of me. There was another reason I didn't mind this, and his name was Richard Winters. While I already knew his reputation as the man everyone looked up to and admired – he was the heart of Easy – I felt honored to witness his work in person. _'But is this really in person? Am I actually here?'_ I found myself once again ignoring the nagging in my head. I fell too easily into my military mindset and focused on the warm-ups. We started with jumping jacks. We were in sync for the most part. After that was push-ups with our hands a little more than shoulder width apart. Winter's told us to do as many as we could to the same cadence and drop out when we got to our max. Some of the scrawnier guys went to 10, some went to 15 or 20. The men who dropped out encouraged those who were still going. At 30 I was the last one going. The guys who knew me were cheering the loudest.

"Alright Drew!" That was Luz.

"Keep it going Masters." That was Lip.

I stopped at 40, ten short of my normal max I can make in two minutes. I still didn't want to stand out too much but I also wanted to dominate. I was conflicted to say the least.

When I got off the ground a few men clapped me on the back. "Nicely done, Private," Winters called to me. I looked over at him and nodded. "Thank you, Sir."

When Winters called us back to formation we did squats. Then it was back on the ground for sit-ups. This time after 40 I was the last one going, the men encouraging me again. I stopped at 50, 15 short of my max in two minutes. The cadence forced me to slow down but I didn't mind, I was still determined to be the last one going. I knew the guys could see a challenge in me and I was going to play their game until I won. Up off the ground we did in-place lunges and moved to an area with pull-up bars set up.

Pull-ups were the bane of my existence. Even though I could do more than the average expected of me I still hated that I couldn't do more. I hated how much more I had to work to get where I am. The main reason I'm as good as I am was because I worked harder out of spite. I wanted to prove a point. And I'll be damned if I wasn't going to do it now too. There were only five bars set up so everyone filed into a line behind them. I was 6th in line for the bar in the middle. The guys in front of me got an average between 5 and 8. When it was my turn I jumped up and proceeded to max myself out at 13. I made it a personal goal to do 16 by the end of Camp Toccoa.

When everyone was done we finally took a short water break.

"You have one minute to drink water and rest. We will be finishing with eight count push-ups," Winters called out to us. I pulled out my canteen and drank about a quarter of it in ten seconds. I used to the rest of the minute we were allotted to stretch out my limbs as much as I could.

Now I don't know if eight count push-ups had changed by the time I got to basic the first time, but we were doing burpees. We started standing straight up, fell into a crouch with our hands on the ground, pushed our legs out so our bodies were in a push-up position, did a single push-up, pulled our legs back so we were crouching again, and then jumped up so we left the ground and finished standing straight up again. Definitely a burpee.

With calisthenics done for the day we were given time to cool down and get lunch. "I want you all to rest while you can," Lieutenant Winters started. "We will meet by the obstacle course in thirty minutes. Fall out." We did so. Lunch was not as rushed as breakfast was. I took my time eating and conversation flowed easily between us.

Bill, who was sitting across from me, was the first to mention my performance. "Ay Drew, 'at was insane what ya did out there. Howdja do that many of all that jawn?"

I swallowed my mouthful of food before I answered. "Years of training, Bill. Years of training."

"Yea, but how?"

I smirked at him. "Trying to figure out how to get ahead of me South Philly? Don't think I didn't notice you trying to keep up during sit-ups."

He smirked back at me. "So what if I am?"

I actually laughed at him this time. He seemed to take it the wrong way until I waved him off. "It's just something you gotta work up to. I can't tell you how long it took to be able to do all that. And if I'm being honest with y'all, I was pulling my punches. I coulda done more, and faster too."

"There's no way!" I heard someone a little down the table exclaim. I hadn't realized practically the whole table was listening. A glance down the line showed me it was Talbert, looking at me like I was crazy.

"It's true," I nodded. "I can do 50 push-ups and 65 sit-ups in two minutes each. Though I do max out my pull-ups at 13."

The table was quiet.

"Christ, it's like you were bred for this."

"You would be right if you weren't wrong. This is just what I decided I wanted to excel at."

Conversation after that turned to more introductions and tossing ideas around of what the rest of basic was going to be like. If what we had done already was only half of the first day then it was going to be insane. Everyone came to one consensus at least: we were crazy to have volunteered for this.

We had all finished our lunches and converged at the obstacle course where we were greeted once again by Lieutenant Sobel. "Listen up men!" he shouted. "I want you all to take a good hard look here because this course is about to become your best friend."

It was a difficult course, I'll give it that, but not the worst I'd done. We had to high-knee through ropes while trying not to fall on our faces, run over beams two feet off the ground without losing our balance, crawl through wooden tunnels that splintered the shit out of our hands and roll out the other side, get over a 10-foot wall without assistance, and crawl under barbed wire. Sobel made us run it again two more times before he was satisfied with our exhaustion. And then he made us run it a one more time just for his sadistic pleasure. No breaks were given. The only rest we got was when we were waiting in line, and we weren't allowed water until after the 3rd time through.

I wasn't surprised when we didn't get time to recuperate before moving to an open part of the grounds for the next task. This time we were learning the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Again it was something I was already familiar with, but re-learning something was never a big deal to me. Who knows, I might even learn something new. Sobel was there only to pair us up with our combat partner before he left and another officer took his place to teach. It was obvious, however, that Sobel gave no thought or regard to height, weight, or stature of the partners he assigned. They weren't all bad though – I had been paired with Skip Muck. We were both some of the smaller people here. (Needless to say we got to know each other). But for people like the Joe's, Toye and Liebgott who were paired together, it didn't make any sense. The officer in charge was at least competent in teaching. He pulled Winters and demonstrated various punches and blocks, going through what our stance should be like and how to not over extend or generally punch wrong. He went around correcting people in a way that actually helped. I decided I liked this officer. I hoped he was always the one who taught hand-to-hand.

The six hours between lunch and dinner seemed more like twelve to the men. If the sun wasn't still in the sky they would've believed that hand-to-hand had taken the rest of the day. Though we had only done two exercises, 1800 hours came around later than anyone was expecting. It was again time for us to simultaneously stuff our faces and fight off exhaustion before finding out what the evening held for us. The half hour we got was also some of the only time we had to rest our bodies.

The entirety of Easy company was called together in the evening for close order drills. We learned how to stand at attention or at ease, how to salute properly to the front, left, or right, how to make a one-quarter or one-half turn or an about face, and how to dress left or right. None of this was in sync as a company but it was a good start. I was willing to bet that everyone would have it down within the week.

By the time Easy was done for the day it was 2200 hours. After doing drill for the last four hours most of the men were walking sluggishly back to the barracks. I heard them talk about being glad they could finally get a shower. I wanted to tell them that the exhaustion they felt and the stink they smelled and the sweat they were drenched in was as bad as it gets but I realized that doing so would bring about more questions than I was willing to answer. Instead of following the men to the showers I flopped onto my bunk and waited them out. It would be easier for everyone this way.

It was about half an hour later that everyone from my barrack came back. It was maybe ten minutes after then that they had all fallen asleep from exhaustion. I waited another twenty minutes before I slipped off my bunk and fetched my towel, soap, and a change of clothes from my trunk as quietly as I could. I snuck out of my barrack and walked down to the showers, looking over my shoulder every once in a while to make sure I wasn't being followed. I didn't even need to. No one was outside when they could be asleep inside, especially this late. Even so, I still checked the whole of the showers to make sure no one else was in with me. No one was.

I walked down to the furthest shower stall. They may have had a dividing wall but there was no curtain, so I made sure I had enough warning time should anyone else come in.

Stripping down I was finally able to unwrap my chest and breath unrestrained. My breasts were sensitive where the bandages had rubbed against them. Stepping under the spray of lukewarm water I began to wash the essentials: hair (which I was grateful I kept buzzed), chest, armpits, lower back, between the legs, and feet. Because I had the showers to myself I took a little extra time to wash the rest of my body too. It almost felt like a luxury to do so, I usually never did. All in all, it took maybe six minutes. After I dried off I re-wrapped my chest and put on the clean shirt, boxers, and OD pants I brought with me.

My trek back to my barrack was as uninterrupted as it was going to the showers. I stuffed my dirty clothes into my laundry bag and quietly slipped back into my bunk. I fell asleep confident that whole day was some figment of my imagination and when I wake up in the morning everything will be back to normal.

It wasn't.

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 _There ya'll go. Please, please, please review! I want to know if you guys like it and if it's worth continuing. I really actually enjoy honest, constructive criticism on my works._

 _See you later?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Guys I can't even express how genuinely happy I am to see that this story got the feedback it did in just one chapter. I want to say thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed so far, it's because of you that I found the motivation to write a second chapter. SO THANK YOU! And I hope you like this chapter as well._

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A month had passed since my first day here at Camp Toccoa. I saw privates and officers come and go in waves. I noted two empty bunks in my barrack after the first week which were quickly filled with new men. One such man was Eugene Roe, one of the Easy company medics. In that month training had also intensified immensely. We ran Currahee in the afternoon every other day it seemed. We got to the point where we could do the whole run in fifty minutes. It didn't matter rain or shine, we ran. When it rained men tripped and slipped in the mud, sometimes taking other people down with them. It was funny when you weren't the one going down. I had been that person on two separate occasions. Once when I slipped on my own and the other when Malarkey, who was in front of me, slipped and took me down as well. We had a good laugh about it that night in the barracks.

The obstacle course, which started out relatively simple, got more complex as the weeks went by. As soon as Sobel noticed we had become comfortable running it, the next day we would find something was added or changed. The balance beams became thinner, the ten foot wall had five more feet added to it (we now had to assist each other over it), and the distance we had to crawl under the barbed wire got longer. So far the only additions were a rope ladder and hurdles. It was becoming even more familiar to me.

The only breaks we got were when we had lectures. They were about anything from map and compass reading to switchboard and wire stringing. My favorites were infantry tactics, codes, and signaling. It was familiar from my time before but different enough so I was learning something new. I also like the lectures on weapons. Old school M1s were always a favorite of mine. We were issued our own personal M1s in the second week and told to treat it like we would treat our wife. It was ours to hold, to sleep with in the field, and to know intimately. We were taught how to field strip it and put it back together. By the third week everyone could do it in under two minutes. Our first time at the range made it immediately clear that Shifty Powers from third platoon was the best shot in the whole 2nd battalion. He was a natural born rifleman. The boys and I from Easy won a lot of money off of Dog and Fox company when they bet they had someone better. I never knew anyone even in my time who could shoot like Shifty.

Promotions were also handed out to some of the men. Lip was promoted to Sergeant the day before yesterday, something everyone knew he deserved. He had been doing a Sergeant's work ever since he got here. He was like the big brother of Easy company. I was also promoted to Corporal due to the leadership skills I had shown throughout the month. Even now I never stopped doing what I did as a Lieutenant. I guess it payed off.

Saturday morning inspections were a favorite of Sobel's. It was his special way of tormenting us during the weekends. Most people were able to keep their weekend passes but a few weren't so lucky. Sobel gigged people for everything short of breathing. Though I wouldn't put it past him to gig some unlucky soul for "breathing too loudly." The first weekend someone from first platoon had his pass revoked for having "dirty ears." Someone else had his revoked for "dirty stacking swivels." However, some of the infractions he called out were not complete bullshit. They were things I would've called out had it been me in his place. During our second Saturday inspection someone from third platoon was late to fall in and it was his unlucky day that Sobel had decided to be on time. He revoked his pass on the spot, no questions asked. I would've done the same.

Though usually Sobel was never on time. His being late was expected.

Just like now.

The only difference between this inspection and all the others was Sobel had surprised us. Today was a Friday, instead of our normal Saturday, inspection.

We had been standing in place for ten minutes already. The sun was beating down on us relentlessly and there was not one cloud in the sky to give us relief. Men had started shifting subtly in irritation, both for Sobel being late and for the sun not going away. It was not unlike my time in Iraq. The sun, the sweat, the god-why-can't-this-be-over feeling. The only good thing about it was I didn't have to worry about Iraqi extremists driving down some dirt road where we were stationed and shooting at my unit. The bad thing was at least in the desert I could drink from my canteen and not risk being yelled at. I tried to focus on something else but all I saw was sweat dripping down the neck of whoever was in front of me. I think it was Gene. He was from Louisiana – bastard was used to this kind of weather. I saw Lieutenant Nixon swat at what was most likely a mosquito by his neck.

"You people are at the position of attention!" Everyone immediately straightened up. Sobel had finally decided to grace us with his presence. He swaggered down the line dressed in his completely unnecessary for this weather bomber jacket. His head was turning every-which-way looking for the poor sap who had supposedly done something wrong.

He stopped in front of Perco first. "Private Perconte, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper?"

"No, sir."

"Then explain the creases at the bottom."

Perco swallowed. "No excuse, sir."

"Volunteering for the Parashoot Infantry is one thing, Perconte, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here. Your weekend pass is revoked."

Sobel walked around more before stopping in front of Luz. "Name." It wasn't a question so much as a demand.

"Luz, George."

Luz barely had time to swing his rifle in front of him before Sobel snatched it out of his hands. He inspected it and tossed it back. "Dirt in the rear sight aperture. Pass revoked."

Walking further down the line he paused in front of Johnny Martin and Bull before looking at Lip.

"When did you sew on these chevrons, Sergeant Lipton?" he asked, picking at a thread on Lip's shoulder.

"Yesterday, sir," Lip replied.

"Long enough to notice this," he held up his clenched fingers to Lip's face before throwing the thread down. "Revoked."

"Sir." I could hear the sigh in his voice.

"Name," Sobel demanded again.

"Malarkey, Donald G."

"Malarkey... 'Malarkey' is slang for 'bullshit', isn't it?" He snatched the gun from Malarkey's hands.

There was an edge in Malark's voice as he answered "Yes, sir." I could imagine why. I'd be pissed if someone slandered my family name. The Malarkey's were a proud family; they were Irish.

"Rust on the butt plate hinge spring, Private Bullshit. Revoked." And again he tossed the gun back. I don't care if the things weren't loaded, he shouldn't have been handling the weapons like that. I saw Skip chance a look back to Malarkey after Sobel walked away before facing front again.

Sobel moved on to the next person. He was on a rampage today. All of this did nothing to help the growing annoyance everyone felt that morning.

"Name."

"Liebgott, Joseph D., Sir."

Sobel went and pulled out Liebgott's bayonet to inspect. "Rusty bayonet, Liebgott." He paused. "You wanna kill Germans?"

Liebgott's face was giving nothing away about his irritation. "Yes, sir."

Sobel smacked the bayonet against Lieb's helmet. "Not with this."

He marched to the front of the formation and held the bayonet in the air for everyone to see. "I wouldn't take this rusty piece of shit to war and I will not take you to war in your condition." He threw the blade into the ground. Like that was helping anything. "Now, thanks to these men and their infractions, every man in the company who had a weekend pass has lost it." He took a second to let it sink in. "Change into your PT gear. We're running Currahee." He walked away after that.

Lieutenant Winters turned to address us. "2nd Platoon, fall out. We have two minutes."

Everyone scrambled to get to their barracks. Liebgott ran to get his bayonet from the dirt where Sobel threw it before following.

Tension was high in my barrack. Everyone was pissed about having their pass revoked and it showed.

"I ain't going up that hill," Perconte seethed. He was sitting on his bunk still in his jacket but he had already changed into his shorts.

Johnny Martin came through the door. "Hey Perconte what are you thinking of, blousing your pants?" he asked as he passed Perconte's bunk.

"Shut up, alright, he gigged everybody!" Perco retorted.

"Yeah well you should know better!" Martin turned to glare. "Don't give him no excuses."

"Excuses?" Perconte got up. "Why don't you come here, look at these trousers, get down and you tell me if there's a crease on 'em!"

I got up from my bunk and stepped in before it could get worse. "Come on Johnny, you know most of Sobel's infractions are bullshit calls anyway." I made air quotes on the word "infractions."

Before he could say anything back Lip came in. "Alright, let's go! On the road, PT formation. Let's move, move, move!"

Everyone rushed out in front of me but Perconte and another private didn't move. "Perconte. Let's go, Perconte," Lip urged.

Perconte ripped off his jacket and followed everyone else out the door. I was still in the room.

Lip addressed the other person who had yet to move. "Private White, why are you not in your PT gear?"

White didn't respond.

"Go fall in with the others Lip," I said. He looked over to me. "I'll take care of it."

He nodded and jogged through the door. I walked over and stood in front of White. "If you don't run right now then you're going to wash out of the Paratroopers. Do you know this?"

The only response I got was the glance he gave me before looking back at the ground. I sighed. "Alright then." I walked over to the door but turned to address him one more time. "I'm going to report this. Have your stuff packed by the time we get back."

I jogged through the door and saw Lip waiting at the back of the formation. I shook my head at him. He sighed and we both ran to catch up with the others in front of us who were knocking caps off Dog company men as they ran by. "I'll report it to Lieutenant Winters," Lip said. I could only nod my head to show that I heard him.

* * *

"Where do we run?

"Currahee!"

"And what does Currahee mean?"

"We stand alone!"

Every once in a while when the men weren't singing Sobel would do this call and answer. I think he just wanted another excuse to yell at us.

"How far up, how far down?"

"Three miles up, three miles down!"

"And what company is this?"

"Easy company!"

"And what do we do?"

"Stand alone!"

"Agh!" Someone yelled out. I ran up to the front of my block to see Skip grasping at his ankle as he tried to keep running.

"Do not help that man!" Sobel yelled out pointing at Skip. As if we didn't already know who needed help. "Do not help that man! Do not stop!"

I ran up to Skip's left side. "You alright, Skip?" I whispered to him.

He looked over and gave a pained smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I can make it." I nodded at him and at Don who was supporting his other side. "Good. Just don't push it too far. It won't do anybody any good if you get seriously hurt."

I saw the determination in his face; he would be just fine the rest of the run. With Don beside him as well I knew he had help waiting if anything else happened.

"You have thirteen minutes to get to the top of this mountain if you want to serve in the Paratroopers. Hi-ho Silver!" Sobel sped up his pace and ran to the middle of first platoon's running block. I kept my pace and stayed in front with Skip. Some of these slopes were dangerous on a good day, I didn't want to be far away if anything else happened.

Luckily though nothing did. We made it to the last fifty yards without anything but exhaustion taking over. It was all, quite literally, down hill from there, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing in this case.

Lieutenant Winters scrambled up the last incline ahead of me and huffed it to the stone at the top. Sobel was already there with a stopwatch in hand. Once Winters slapped the stone he stayed at the top to encourage us. "Come on! You can make it up there, come on!"

I slapped the stone and started my way back down with Bill close behind.

"Come on! Come on Masters let's go! Come on, Guarnere! Christenson, you got it! Come on!"

"Never thought I'd see the day, private Wynn," I heard Sobel say. Sure, Popeye had been one of the slower runners in the beginning but with the right encouragement he stepped up his game. I guess Sobel just didn't see that. Even if he did I doubted he would actually care. He wasn't a good CO, to put it mildly.

Just before I was out of hearing range I heard "We are coming on twenty-three minutes. That may be good enough for the rest of the 506th, but that is not good enough for Easy company!"

Three miles on a path like this in 23 minutes is still pretty damn good in my books.

The way down the mountain was quiet except for the pounding of boots on dirt and the curses muttered under the breaths of men. Most of the time we would gather in our little niche of friends and talk in panted out sentences. It created a nice distraction and made the run down feel at least a little shorter. But we didn't talk this time. We only ran in the group.

Everyone fell in as per usual at the bottom of the mountain to be dismissed for dinner. Today was Friday so we had an hour after dinner to rest before our twelve mile march. And as much as everyone hated marching, we really wanted the time to rest.

Lieutenant Sobel was the last down the hill – also as per usual. He paced in front of us for a good few seconds. It seemed like he was going to give us his usual spiel of "that wasn't good enough" but instead he just dismissed us and walked off.

No one was disappointed.

We trudged to the dining hall. It was already filled with other companies looking at us in what I could only guess was pity. Like we needed their pity. If we could survive Sobel then we would have a fraction more of a chance than them surviving the war. I almost hated myself for thinking it but I knew it was true.

"So what's your plan for our down time tonight Drew? Reading again?" Luz asked me when we finally sat down. The last two weeks I had been reading a book called _Brave New World_. It was interesting to say the least. I had a vague memory of reading it my freshman year of high school and thought re-reading it would keep me occupied. None of the guys really saw the point.

Before I could answer Liebgott cut in. "You know I don't really see the point." Could this man read my mind? "Unless the book tells you how to kill better then I don't want to read it."

"I read because I'd rather look at a stack of paper than your face, Liebgott."

The table busted out laughing and Bill clapped him on the back. "He's gotta point. You do have one ugly mug." Lieb glared at Bill and then at me. I only laughed harder.

When everyone calmed down I turned back to Luz. "I'm taking a fucking nap today. No reading for me."

"Now you're talking some sense," he laughed again.

We all got back to the barracks in one piece. Not that there was anything that could've happened between the mess and there, but with Easy you never knew. Expect the unexpected and all that. I walked straight to my bunk tucked into the far corner.

"Okay, someone wake me up when we need to start getting ready for the march," I called out to the room. The reply was nothing more than a few grunts from a few of the guys but I knew at least someone would wake me. I felt blessed that I had the ability to fall asleep quickly. And boy did I ever.

* * *

 _This room that I was in, it was always the same one. Small. It felt smaller than it actually was. The air was dry despite the window panels being cracked and broken in places. Not that the air outside helped much. But I needed fresh air if I wanted to heal._

 _But they didn't want me to heal._

 _I don't even know how long it's been. Six days at the least. It felt like an eternity. When I'm moved, the room they take me to doesn't have windows. It's impossible to tell time. I could be there for hours, or days, I couldn't tell the difference. The only time I got rest was when I passed out. Or when they let me sleep._

 _Through the window I could see it was dark; the sun had set a while ago. It would be time soon._

 _It couldn't have been more than half an hour later that the door to the room was opened and three different men came it. It used to be just one man that got me but they learned that one wasn't enough._

 _I was pulled to my feet._

" _Agghh!"_

 _Pain blossomed in my shoulder where it had previously been dislocated and put back in place. That had happened twice already for talking back. I could barely stand because it felt like fire was crawling along my back, digging into the crevices of the wounds there._

 _They dragged my fumbling mess of a body to the windowless room. I was met by the same man as always: Tall, dark skin, goatee, bandana, robe. No different from most of the other men but the look in this man's eyes froze me to the core. He was a sadist through and though._

 _He smiled when he saw me. "Ahh, Miss Masters, how nice of you to join us."_

 _I gave him a pained smile of my own as I was shoved onto my knees. "Not like I had a choice."_

 _Something slammed into my back and I found myself on the floor. It felt like I had acid poured over me. I wanted to puke. All that they heard was a pained whine, though not from the lack of trying to scream. I was past the point of screaming. The pain literally took my voice away._

" _You know what I want. Where is your convoy going next?"_

 _I coughed and crawled up to my knees again. "1st Lieutenant... Masters, Drew A... SSN 216... 48... 5845... born 24, December... 1984."_

 _He sighed and I felt my face smash into the dresser that was next to me. I felt more blood come from my nose and lip._

" _That's no good. As much as I like playing our games, I need the information. You don't want to become useless to me, do you?"_

" _1st Lieutenant Masters... Drew A... SSN 216-48... 5845, born 24... December, 1984."_

" _Very well then. We'll just have to skip to the fun part tonight. I'm afraid I don't have much patience right now." He left the room._

 _I was again forced against the dresser by the guards but this time so my back was on display. What was left of the back of my shirt was soaked in blood already. Only threads held it together showing the shoddy bandage job underneath._

 _Underneath the bandages where deep gashes, courtesy of a whip. They burned when I moved. They bled at even the slightest jar. My captors did enough to where I didn't get infected but that was where their generosity, if that's what you could call it, ended._

 _I knew what was coming next when the door opened again._

 _I heard the crack a millisecond before I felt the pain._

* * *

"Drew? DREW!"

"Nngh!" I jerked up in bed. My hands flailed out and I felt myself smack something solid.

"Ow!"

Looking around I realized I was back in my barracks and the men who surrounded me were my men. My boys. "Jesus Christ," I whispered. The images from my dream were seared into to the back of my eyes.

"Jesus Christ is right. What'd you hit me for?" Toye called out, holding the side of his face.

I shook my head. "Shit, sorry Joe. You just surprised me." He gave me a look like he didn't quite believe me but he did drop it.

"You were havin' a nightmare." Roe's cajun drawl worked miracles in calming me down. "Pretty bad one too, I'd say." I must have been thrashing. Damn it.

Some of the men ambled back to their bunks once they saw I was okay. A few of them stayed to get answers. "I'm not entirely sure "nightmare" is the word I'd use," I grimaced. "I'm fine, do we need to get ready for the march yet?"

"Yea, we have ten minutes."

"Alright. Thanks Roe." I gave him a gracious smile which he returned.

Getting into my ODs and getting my pack ready allowed me to gather my thoughts and sort them out. It had been not long enough since I last had a nightmare of that caliber. I had an irrational hope that I had gotten over reliving it in my dreams. Obviously it was still there, somewhere in the back of my mind. I needed to keep it under what little control I had if I wanted to make it through this. Regression to my previous mindset now would be extremely bad for me.

I compartmentalized that moment from my dreams. It had happened. It was over. I tucked it away in my mind. I needed to focus on the march now.

The marches, God bless, Sobel never went on. He was there in the beginning and at the end but that was it. No one complained about that.

All in all, the march took about three hours. Two and a half hours in, someone decided to speak up.

"Imma say somethin'," I heard Bull whisper to Luz in front of me.

"To who?" Luz asked incredulously.

Bull waited until Winters had crossed in front of the formation. "Lieutenant Winters," he called out.

Winters glanced back. "What is it?"

"Permission to speak, Sir."

"Permission granted."

Bull took the go ahead. "Sir, we got nine companies, Sir."

"We do."

"Well how come we're the only company marching every Friday night, twelve miles, full pack in the pitch dark?"

"Why do you think, Private Randleman?"

"Lieutenant Sobel hates us, Sir."

Winters looked back again, surprised that Bull had said what he did. "Lieutenant Sobel does not hate Easy company, Private Randleman." There was a pause. "He just hates you."

Everyone laughed. It wasn't often that anyone heard Lieutenant Winters tell a joke; times like this were to be put in the books.

"Thank you, Sir," Bull called out. Luz gave him a look as he smirked.

"He hates him back," I heard someone say behind me.

"He hates you too, Muck." There was a thud. I assumed Muck had just gotten hit.

The rest of the march we went back to our normal quiet pace.

It wasn't too much longer after that that we all fell in to be inspected by Lieutenant Sobel. We got into our block as he rounded the corner. "Lieutenant Winters I want canteens out of belts with caps unscrewed," he said as he walked in front of everybody.

Winters relayed the command. "Easy company, canteens out and open."

I knew where he was going with this. It was the first night we were ordered not to drink water. Which was stupid of course but it wasn't my place to say that. I followed orders and got my canteen and unscrewed the cap, holding it out in front of me.

"On my command they will pour the contents onto the ground."

"On the CO's order you will upend your canteen."

I sighed. This wasn't going to be pretty.

"Now, Lieutenant."

"Pour 'em!"

The sound of everyone's water simultaneously being poured on the ground was cringe worthy. My mouth was dry already, and hearing that just dried it up more. I'm surprised no one passed out from dehydration if I were being honest.

Sobel was pacing the line again.

"Who is this!?" He exclaimed, marching to the back of the formation. "Christenson! Why is there no water in your canteen? You drank from your canteen, didn't you?"

"Sir, I was–"

Sobel didn't even give Christenson a chance to finish. I saw men crane their necks inconspicuously to try and see what was going on.

"Lieutenant Winter!"

Winters stepped up. "Yes, Sir?"

"Was this man ordered to not drink from his canteen during the Friday night march?" Sobel asked even though he already knew the answer.

"He was, Sir," Winters confirmed.

"Private Christenson you have disobeyed a direct order. You will fill your canteen and repeat all twelve miles of the march immediately."

Christenson had no choice but to just go with it. "Yes, Sir."

"FALL OUT!" Sobel yelled.

As Christenson left Sobel marched back to the front, pointed to Lieutenant Winters, and then pointed to a spot on the ground in front of him.

"What in the name of God are you doing with my company?" Sobel asked, furious. "You're late and you allow troopers to disobey direct orders?"

As quiet as Sobel was maybe trying to be, everyone still heard what he was saying.

Winters was resigned. "No excuse, Sir."

"You're making me look bad, Lieutenant. This is not Dog company. This is not Fox company. This," he gestured towards us. "This is Easy company. And under my command this will be the first and finest company in this regiment."

Sobel got face to face with Winters. He also must have gotten quieter because I couldn't hear what he said next from where I was standing in the block.

He walked away without dismissing us so Lieutenant Winters did. We ambled back to our barracks. Everyone else began to grab things for their shower. My plan was to wait them out again but that was before I noticed Skip still limping as he walked through the door. That march had done nothing to help his ankle after running Currahee earlier.

"Muck," I called him over to my bunk. "Front and center."

His limp wasn't that noticeable but I knew it was there so it stood out to me. Malarkey was also looking so I was willing to bet he saw it too.

"Did I do something, Corporal?" He looked nervous, the poor thing.

I gave him a soft smile. "How's the ankle? Still giving you trouble?"

He shifted to put some weight on it and quickly went back to his other foot. "A bit."

I nodded. "After your shower have Malarkey take you to the med tent and get it wrapped up. Malarkey?"

Malarkey straightened up. "I'll make sure he get's there in one piece."

"Good." I turned back to Skip. "Make sure you get some ice on it tonight. And stay off it whenever you can until it feels better. Got it?"

He nodded. "Got it."

"Awesome. Now go skip your way down to the showers."

"Aha," he deadpanned. "You think you're funny, don't you Drew?"

"I think I'm hilarious, actually," I affirmed.

Everyone left shortly after and I was left to my own devices until they came back and fell asleep. Sometimes it was hard always having to sneak out just to shower. I have no doubt that some of the men noticed. But if they didn't say anything then I sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up. I liked it better when I didn't have to worry about people knowing I was a girl but this was a different time.

I laid down on my bunk facing the wall, just waiting. A few minutes later I heard the door open and sheets rustle. No one usually stayed up if they could help it, I hoped tonight wouldn't be any different. After another ten minutes snores filled the room. I carefully looked over my shoulder and saw everyone was indeed asleep. Malark's and Skip's bunks were still empty, so I assumed they went to the med tent as I suggested. That was good.

I got my stuff for the showers and slipped out like I did every night. The way there was abandoned like normal. Thank God for small blessings.

The showers were also at their usual zero-person capacity when I got there. The back stall had become mine in the month that I'd been here. I just never bothered to use a different one. I stripped and stepped into the spray of water. I had also gotten into the bad habit of taking showers that were longer than two minutes, but no one else was there so I was okay with it. The shower is where I had time to think without any distraction. Tonight I took time to reflect over my dream from earlier. It was another lesson I learned from the therapists I had been to. I had to reflect, not keep shoving it down. Face it head on. Which is what I did. That is also why, while lost in my reflection, I didn't hear anyone come into the showers.

I had just turned off the water and slipped into my boxers when–

"What the fuck?"

I froze, my back to whoever had walked in.

Turning just enough I saw that it was Skip, who was panicking.

"Shit! You weren't– Malark was tired– Went looking– You're a– "

I kept my head turned to him as much as I could without flashing him. "Muck, are you gonna finish any of those sentences?"

He looked like a dear caught in headlights. "Sorry!" he squeaked out before he turned to fast-hobble away.

"Oh hell no!" Completely disregarding my lack of shirt I chased after him. He was just about to grab the entrance handle when I spun him around and pinned him to the door. "Listen to me!" I yelled as he started to panic.

He froze again when he saw that I had in fact chased after him shirtless. I shook him a little. "Eyes up, soldier."

His eyes snapped to mine.

"Listen," I said in a slightly softer tone. "I've been here a month. I've proven myself to you even when I didn't have to. I've gone above and beyond expectations not out of habit but out of necessity because nobody expects a woman to be able to do anything. And believe it or not I have more experience than most of the men here. So I am not washing out just because someone found out I have tits. You got that?"

"Y-Yeah. I swear I won't tell anybody!"

I unpinned him from the door. "Good. I' trusting you with this Skip. The brass can't find out."

"They won't." He was trying really hard to keep his eyes on the ceiling now. "Drew? Can you, uhh... put a shirt on?" he asked.

I laughed at him. "You know you're probably the only guy in this whole camp who would actually ask me to do that. But yeah, I guess a shirt is important."

I walked back to the stall and wrapped my chest before actually putting my shirt on. "If I ever meet this Faye you keep taking about I'll be sure to tell her about this. She'd be impressed you kept your eyes in appropriate places. For the most part that is."

I could see him blush slightly. I laughed again.

We walked back to the barracks in companionable silence. Skip kept giving me side glances but I ignored them. I'd answer his questions if he asked them.

Just before we got to the door he asked the one thing I wasn't actually willing to answer right now.

"What happened to your back?"

I faltered in my step. "One thing at a time Skip."

We both crept into the barrack and into our respective bunks with a goodnight. I knew he had a lot to think about. I did too. I just hoped that I could keep the nightmares at bay. I didn't want to explain that so soon.

* * *

 _So like I said above, you guys are the bomb dot com._

 _Though I want to put this out there, I probably won't have a regular update schedule for this, it's mainly going to be me writing when I actually have to motivation and, more importantly, the time to. I'm aiming for about 5000 words per chapter so it's gonna take me a while._

 _But I also want to say that I want this to be a good story, character and plot wise, and have it be as historically accurate as it can be when you have time travel involved. These guys are my babies and I hate how late in the game I came to truly appreciate who they are and what they did._

 _That being said (dut) I love you (dut) I miss you... huhnnnhhuhnnnnnnnnnn_

 _... I am so sorry that's a marching band thing from this past season (because I am nerd personified) and I just couldn't resist. Forgive me._

 _But that's about it for announcements._

 _Bye my lovelies!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey fam, it's been a while. Sorry about that, but school has picked up and I don't have as much time to write anymore. But worry not, because slow and steady wins the race and I write a little bit whenever I get the chance. And I already have a little less than 1000 words written of the next chapter so hopefully you won't have to wait as long for that one._

 _Aside from that, I hope you enjoy this chapter, because it was a riot to get done._

* * *

On Tuesday, following our extremely boring yet relaxing weekend without passes (where I spent most of my time polishing my boots only to have them still look like shit), we finally got to the part of training I was most looking forward to: jump training. Yesterday was dedicated to a physical test to see who qualified to continue training. It got a lot of men kicked out but that was the way it had to be. Most of the men from Easy were banking on Sobel not being able to do the minimum count for push ups, but much to our chagrin he passed. The jump training we were getting at Toccoa wasn't exactly the extensive training we would get later but it was something at least. We had already learned as much as we could about jumping during our lectures – it was finally time to get some practical learning done. I may not have been a paratrooper in my time but that didn't mean I was completely hopeless. I had jumped out of more planes than I could count. And if you're wondering how, I have four words.

West Point Parachute Team.

For the four years before I stood in the long gray line I was part of the best team that could have ever been established. Ever. I may have been biased but, eh, details.

Jump training started with learning the position for landing. There were prop plane doors that were a few feet off the ground that they made us jump off of and into the dirt. We learned to start our jump with our fingers outside of the plane, always have our arms tucked and hand on our reserve chute, count out loud "one-thousand, two-thousand, three-thousand, four-thousand," and land with our feet together and fall onto our asses from there. For the first week, all this was done without equipment.

"Stand up!" the jump master in charge yelled. I stood up along with everyone else.

"Hook up!" Since we were only in a prop and not an actual plane we had to mime the commands.

"Equipment check!" We weren't wearing the gear yet so doing this was just to get us used to doing it by the numbers. Which basically meant that equipment check was an excuse to grab the ass of the guy in front of you, trying to make them as uncomfortable as possible. I'm completely positive Luz started that whole thing. I patted down Tab who was in front of me and I felt Martin do the same behind me.

"Sound off for equipment check!"

It started with eighteen, then seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, all the way down to one.

We jumped out of the prop one by one, landed, fell, and tried to get out of the way before the next guy landed on top of us. We continued repeating the process, switching places every time to get used to doing it. Even then though, we hadn't even started the hard part. I wasn't looking forward to hearing everyone's complaining once we started wearing equipment.

* * *

"Now tighten these buckles down here."

Colonel Sink joined us this week to show us how to put on our jump equipment. He had Lieutenant Winters in front of him, showing us what to do with the various bells and whistles. Figurative bells and whistles of course.

"The Lieutenants will do this to the rest of you."

And so they did. I was uneasy when Lieutenant Nixon came over to me and did up my buckles. With two of them being so close to my crotch, would he notice I was lacking a little junk? When he finished and only asked if I understood what to do, I was relieved. I gave him an affirmative nod of my head and he moved on to the next person.

After everyone was done up, we were ordered to undo everything. Groans filled the air, but that was all the resistance given.

"Now I want you to turn to the man next to you and help them with their equipment. Get used to rigging each other, that's what this is about."

Naturally with everyone rigging each other now there was a lot of dicking around. "Jesus, my balls are being squeezed like nobody's business."

I rolled my eyes as I tightened the buckles. "If it's nobody's business then shut up about it Luz."

Later that day we moved outside to jump out of the prop plane. Equipment threw off people's center of balance in spades. It would've been funny if Sobel wasn't tearing us a new one every time someone didn't jump perfectly. Poor Walter Gordon had to run Currahee when he messed up, but he was soon joined by others.

* * *

Two weeks passed and things got even more exciting.

Toccoa had made mock towers to simulate a real jump and landing. The towers were about thirty-five feet high, and after being connected to the harnesses and jumping down the cable it felt like a real jump. I loved the exhilaration. The only thing missing was the feel of free falling – the wind whipping against my body. Damn, now I really wanted to jump out of a plane.

But even more exciting than jumping off a tower was calisthenics. Let me explain. Lieutenant Winters had been leading us on a new exercise, one justly named the atomic sit-up. It was hell and harder than it seemed in principle. But that wasn't the good news. The good news was that Sink just so happened to be observing that day.

Three days later Winters was sporting his shiny new silver bars from his promotion to First Lieutenant. Everyone was congratulating him in the mess hall that afternoon. Spirits were also high because of the food and the expected afternoon off. The guys were eating the spaghetti like it was going out of style.

"Aye yo guys, if I were you I'd slow down with the eating." Everyone in my vicinity looked at me like I was stupid.

Luz spoke up beside me. "Drew, when was the last time we had actual food here? You're telling me not to make the most of it?"

"This ain't spaghetti. This is army noodles with ketchup," Perco informed us.

"All I'm saying," I continued, "is that if you don't want to taste it for a second time today then I'd take it easy."

Guarnere scooted behind us to sit down. "You ain't gotta eat it."

"Oh come on, Gonorrhea, as a fellow Italian you should know that calling this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin."

Hoob reached over from the other table and made a grab for Perco's plate. "You don't want it? I'll have it."

"No no no, I'm eating here!"

"Hey get outta here!"

I laughed. Any minute here they were going to regret not listening to me. Did I get some sort of vindictive pleasure from this knowledge? Yes, yes I did.

There was a whistle.

"Orders changed! Get up!" Sobel came through the door and everyone stood at attention. I could see rage and realization on people's faces. "Lectures are canceled; Easy company is running up Currahee! Move! Move!"

Everyone scrambled to get out the door.

"Three miles up, three miles down! High-ho Silver! Let's go, let's go!"

The run up the mountain was just... not pretty. Men were heaving as they ran, white shirts were stained orange, and ears were insulted. There were a few ambulances that followed us. Sobel told us that we were free to get a ride with the paramedics. Some people did. (We never saw them again).

Groans filled the air as we walked back to our barracks. I already knew Roe was going to have his hands full tonight. Nearly everyone had puked at least once and stomachs still churned occasionally. I was lucky in that I hadn't upchucked, but I was going to need to lie down as soon as we got back. This evening was not pleasant in any way.

Luz was the first one through the door and he immediately collapsed into the fetal position on his bed. "Drew," he called out when I walked past. "Next time I don't take your advice about something, remind me of this moment."

"It would be my genuine pleasure, George."

I ended up helping Roe hand out pills for the nausea that night.

* * *

There had been a consistent lull in training for a while now. By the end of November everybody was an expert in their field, be it mortars, machine-guns, rifles, communications, and the rest. Everyone knew everyone's jobs, so if at any point the chain of command was broken someone could step up. Basic training was over now but until we moved to Fort Benning we were stuck doing the same drills over and over again. I was starting to plateau and it irritated me. I wanted to move on already. I needed to for the sake of my, and everyone else's, sanity.

Fortunately, or not, it depends on who's asked, Thanksgiving gave us something different in spades. While 2nd Battalion would have loved to take a well-deserved break with the rest of the 506th, we instead got a two-day field exercise, courtesy of Major Strayer. The most memorable part of this was definitely our extended army crawl through the mud and... other.

"Jesus, what the hell is this?" Skip asked as we rolled into a ditch underneath the barbed wire.

Bull's southern drawl answered. "That's pig guts, boy."

"Oh, I love fresh pig guts in the morning!" I really hoped someone in charge heard my sass.

We had the afternoon off, thank God, so everyone high tailed it to the showers before going to dinner. Once again I waited them out and slipped in before anyone noticed I wasn't following them to the mess. It was heaven to finally wash off the various-pig-part gunk that stuck to my skin. I joined the guys to eat and was surprised to see actual turkey on my plate along with mashed potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce. Maybe the army didn't completely want us to suffer after all. Spirits were high as we ate and they stayed high long after dinner was over and we were relaxing in our bunks. I started a new book, _And Then There Were None_ by Agatha Christie, and was just getting to the end of the first chapter when I felt eyes on me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw it was Malark, so I brushed it off and continued reading. When I got to the third chapter and still noticed him watching me with the most curious face I finally acknowledged him.

"Something you need, Malark?" I set my book down and sat up.

He was visibly startled. "N-no. Sorry. Sorry. I just- it's nothing." There was the slightest hint of a blush and I noticed his eyes keep flickering downward towards my chest. It wasn't that hard to put things together, plus I was paranoid that this was going to happen sooner or later.

"He told you." It wasn't a question.

He hesitated. "... Yeah."

I put on my best RBF. " _Muck_." I started walking across the room.

Skip looked up from where he was laying down. It may have been my face or the way I was stalking over to him, but he looked properly scared. Good.

"I'm going to _end_ you."

"Shit!" he sprung up and booked it to the other side of the room, catching the attention of everyone else. Apparently it didn't take him long to put things together either.

I bounded after him. Lucky for him though Toye decided to hold me back, because I was planning bodily harm if I caught him.

"Masters, what's this about?" Lip stepped in my line of sight to Skip.

I struggled weakly in Joe's arms. I knew he had me out muscled so I didn't bother to try any harder to get away. "You mean other than the fact that there's two people too many that know something that is extremely detrimental to me? I'm just going lower that number by one."

Lip and the others who had now crowded around looked confused. "Well whatever it is I doubt it can be that bad. Why don't you just calm down?"

"Actually it's pretty bad."

I glared. "Muck I swear to God I will hurt you."

Lip gave me a look. "Is it something that I'm going to have to report, Masters?"

I sighed and forced myself to relax as best I could while still being pinned by Joe. "No, it's nothing. It's fine. I'm calm, I'm calm."

I was finally let go of.

"Well this has been an eventful night." Trust Luz to break the tension.

"Yes it has," I agreed. "And I'm tired, so I'm going to bed." I went back to my bunk as everyone else did.

Before I drifted off I whispered to Malark, "I'll explain it all later. Now that you know you deserve at least that."

* * *

Sometimes, not often, but sometimes I disagreed with Colonel Sink. I also don't think I've ever hated the _Reader's Digest_ magazine more. They had an article that said the Japanese had set a world record by marching a hundred miles in seventy-two hours. Sink wanted to one-up the Japanese, naturally. And he chose 2nd battalion to do it.

The first day was the easiest by far. We had marched maybe forty-five miles and everyone was still jacked up on adrenaline. The hill we hunkered down on for the night was damp and freezing and completely barren but spirits were still high. Because it was so cold I resorted to an old trick I knew. I took my jump gloves and, after taking off my boots, slipped them onto my feet.

"Fellas, I think Drew here's finally lost it," I heard Guarnere drawl.

I grinned up at him. "You gotta problem with how I do things, Gonorrhea?"

"Yea, I do. You're puttin' gloves on ya feet. Gloves ain't supposta go on ya feet."

"Yeah well when you've been around the block a few times, you learn a trick or two." I attempted to get comfortable in my shelter half. "If you wanna be able to feel your toes in the morning I suggest you do the same."

I could practically feel him roll his eyes at me. "There's no way."

"Alright. Just remember what happened last time when you didn't take my advice. That spaghetti wasn't as good looking the second time around, was it?"

There was a pause.

"Fuck, I'm doing it," Luz, who had been listening, called out. Rustling followed as more of the guys started to stick their gloves on their feet.

"'Atta boy."

* * *

The next day was a lot worse than the last.

"This sucks," I head Gordon mutter. "This absolutely sucks."

I sympathized with him. He had to lug around his machine gun in the freezing rain with the wind doing nothing to help. I couldn't even begin to understand what the mortarmen were going through. They may as well have been carrying a sixty-five pound bag of bricks.

* * *

There was a woman across the street waving at us. She was holding a bottle of water up in the air as an offering to us. It took almost all my inner strength to not run over. And I wasn't the only one thinking about doing it.

"I can get at least two," I heard Malark whisper beside me.

There was a scoff. "You're gonna risk getting your ass busted for a bottle of water?"

I knew it was a bad idea but I couldn't help but to say, "Let me do it."

"Have you two lost your gahhdamn mind?" I turned my head down to Bill who was so nicely berating us.

"Don't try to act like you weren't thinking about it," I sniffed. "All I need is someone to distract Sobel. Besides, I'm faster than Malark."

Bill looked like he was weighing it over. "Fine," he nodded. "Don't you dare come back empty handed Masters."

And just like that everyone in the immediate vicinity of the block became clustered in front of Sobel. I didn't waste any time and flat out sprinted across to the woman who was now beaming at me.

"Who is that man!?" I heard in the distance.

I didn't pay any mind to it. I got to the woman and loaded my arms with water.

"I want that man's name!"

"God bless you, ma'am." I placed a quick kiss on her cheek and sprinted back into the cluster of men across the street. I quickly dispersed my load to everyone I could with a quick message of "sharing is caring" and found my spot in the reformed block.

Sobel was never able to figure out that it was me who ran across the road. Sucker.

By the time we got to Oglethorpe University just outside Atlanta, I was tired. The adrenaline from evading Sobel earlier was wearing off and the constant marching was starting to take its toll on my shins.

Joe Toye was doing a good job at keeping spirits up, however, by singing an Irish song he learned from his folks.

I sat outside my pup tent massaging and stretching my calves and shins while I waited until chow was ready. A lot of the other guys were having a lie-down while they waited too.

Once chow was called I worked my way up to standing and started towards the forming line for food. Skip joined in behind me carrying two mess kits.

"What's with the two kits, Skip?" I asked out of curiosity.

He gave a worried glance over his shoulder. I followed his gaze and saw Malarkey sitting outside his own tent. "Malark's legs are giving him trouble. He can't even stand. He was trying to crawl over to the line before I told him I'd get his food."

I frowned. If it was serious enough that he couldn't walk, then whatever it was needed to be looked at. "I'm no Doc Roe but I know a few things that might help. I'll come see you guys after I finish eating."

And that's exactly what I did after scarfing down my meal. Their tents weren't that far away from mine so I got there quickly.

"Hey Malark," I greeted as I squatted next to him. "Heard your legs are jacked up. What's the problem?"

He gave me a pained smile. "You mean besides that fact that they feel like they're literally on fire?"

"Where is most of the pain located? Is there any really specific place or is it just an over-all feeling?" I asked, frowning much like I did when Skip told me about this.

"Mainly my shins, here," he motioned to the inside of his shin, the medial area. "And my thighs, they're just burning," he grimaced.

"And you're sure there's no one part of your legs that hurt above all else?" I asked just to clarify.

"Nothin' stands out that bad, no."

"Hm," I hummed. "If that's the case then you're lucky, because good news is you don't have a stress fracture. Bad news is that you most likely have severe shin splints and possibly a mild case of lactic acidosis. That is, you have a build up of lactic acid in your bloodstream, and you're feeling it more in your thighs because you've been over-exerting those muscles the most with all the marching. I dealt with this a lot when I did track and field in high school so I can show you what to do if you want?"

There was a pause. "...So why aren't you a medic again?"

"It's just not my cup of tea," I laughed. "Don't get me wrong, if the situation calls for it then I will use all of my medical knowledge to help someone, but I can't be as active as I want or need to be if I were just a medic. But enough of that. Malark, I know it's cold but I need you to take off your boots and socks and roll up your pants."

He blanched. "W-what? Why?"

"Because you need to have your shins massaged. After I do it I'll show you how to do it to yourself. Plus the cold will help bring down the inflammation. You should probably get some aspirin from Roe before you hunker down tonight too."

When he finally got his pant legs up I could feel my eyes widen the tiniest bit. The whole area around his tibia was swollen, not to mention his ankles. "Bit worse than I thought, okay," I murmured to myself. I started gently rubbing the palm of my hands up and down his shins, barely using any pressure. "Does this hurt at all?"

"Not too bad right now. But I expect it'll be worse once you start adding more pressure?"

"Yeah," I nodded, increasing the pressure of my strokes. "I can't beat around the bush with this, it's going to be very painful, but it will help in the long run. Christ, you would need weeks of rest with shin splints this bad. You'll get at most maybe a day or two once we get to Five Points tomorrow."

I spent the next hour or so periodically increasing the pressure of my massage. Malark was grimacing the entire time but we still managed to make small talk. Lieutenant Winters stopped by at one point to see what the issue was, where I repeated my explanation from earlier and told him what I was doing. He told Malark that he should go the rest of the way in a rig but Malark wasn't having it.

"Sir, give me a night's rest," he said, glancing at me and Skip. "I think I can make it."

Winters looked skeptical, which was completely reasonable, but shook his head anyway. "Whatever you think."

He left after that but we were soon joined by Roe, who was curious as to what I was doing. He decided to stay and watch after I explained everything for a third time since he figured it'd be a good thing to know how to deal with shin splints like this.

It was maybe another half hour before Malarkey really started to relax. "Feeling better?" I asked.

"Well I've definitely been better, but you've helped a lot. Thanks, Drew," he smiled at me.

"Not a problem," I smiled back. "Now you know what to do. If you see me in the morning before we head out then I'll wrap your shins for you. It'll help combat the stress that marching puts on them." I glanced over to Roe. "You can watch again too, if you want. It's really nothing fancy. But I will need to bum some adhesive plaster out of your pack."

Roe nodded and gave a shy smile. Oh how I wish he would never lose that smile. "Oh," I perked up. "Roe he's gonna need some aspirin tonight too." Roe gave another nod and pulled out some tablets from his med pack.

"Now there's not much that can be done about your thighs except finding the trouble spots and working out the knots yourself and drinking a lot of water. Although the build up of lactic acid doesn't have anything to do with the soreness you're going to feel in the next few days. It only happens to active muscles."

I stood up and brushed off my pants while Malark fixed his and put his socks back on. "Now don't forget to see me tomorrow," I said as I stood. I saw him nod so I turned to go back to my own tent. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

I got up the next morning and stretched out my legs before I even attempted to stand up. I ate breakfast and met up with Roe before we both went over to where Malarkey was sitting outside his tent.

"Same deal as yesterday, socks off and pants up," I said, getting straight to the point.

When he was ready I got the tape from Roe and began to explain.

"So what I'm going to do first is an inhibition of the Tibialis anterior, which is this muscle right here," I pointed to the outside of the Tibia on Malark's leg. "Also Malark I'm sorry but this is gonna hurt like a bitch to take off later because you have hairy legs."

"Well shit."

"Yeah. Anyway flex your foot for me right quick and keep it flexed until I say you can relax." He did. "I'm going to start the wrap from the cuboid bone, on the outside of his foot and bring it down and around under the arch and across his ankle. This is for support mostly and it helps it not come off during active wear. Then you're going to bring it right up the Tibialis anterior."

When I finished I did the same thing, mirrored, to his other leg.

"Okay now stand up. The next wrap I'm going to do mimics a compression sleeve so it will create all-around support of his shins. What you want to do is start and the lowest point of pain and put your first anchor there, then bring the tape around creating constant pressure and end the tape so both anchors make an 'X' over the point of pain. Tear the tape and repeat, going all the way up to the highest point of pain."

I went slow so Roe could see exactly how I was placing the tape, then repeated the same thing on his other shin. "This is as much as I can do for you now."

"This is more than enough Drew. I really owe you one," he said, clapping me on my shoulder.

"It's the least I could do. We're probably going to move out soon so you better get ready."

I left and packed up the rest of my own stuff.

The last thirty-eight miles sucked. There's nothing else I could say about it. The only good thing about it was when we were about a mile out from Five Points we were joined by a band, courtesy of Major Strayer. The music made everyone feel better than they had in days. We all finished the march in higher spirits than when we began. It was a good feeling.

And one-hundred miles away was Fort Benning, where our wings were waiting for us.

* * *

 **{[Okay so I wrote this out to be earlier in the chapter but it just didn't really fit the flow so I'm just putting it down here. This takes place the night after Drew almost kills Skip in the Barack and all that.]}**

It was the next night that Malark and I stepped out of our barrack, after making sure everyone was asleep, and started down the road towards the mess. I wanted to be sure that no one would overhear us. Not that anyone would – we were the only ones stupid enough to be awake when we could be sleeping.

I leaned against the side of the mess building and motioned for Malark to start.

"So, you're… a dame?" he breathed in disbelief.

I crossed my arms. "I'm a woman, yes. I'd show you proof but you're nervous enough as is. No reason to have you pass out now," I huffed.

Even in the poorly lit alley I could see him get even redder. "No, no that's not necessary!" he spluttered.

Chuckling, I gave him the same speech I gave Skip, though maybe a litter nicer. "Listen Malark, I know this is basically going against every rule you follow, but you can't tell anyone about me, least of all any of the Brass. I'm not getting kicked out because of this. Though I have to thank you for not spilling the second you found out." I smiled softly at him. "Nothing can change. Nothing is going to change, at least not on my part. I'm still the same person, I don't act any differently than you've already seen. Can I trust you with this?"

I was impressed when he met my eye with such a determined look.

"You can trust me."

"Good." I pushed off the wall. "Now let's get back to the barrack. I'm tired as balls."

He let out a chuckle and followed at my side. "I don't get you, Drew. If you're a dame… uh, woman, I mean, then what are you doing here in the infantry? Why not just join the nurse corps with the other women?"

I took a moment to ponder his question before I answered. "I wish I could give you a straight answer. The most I can say is I didn't really have a choice in where I ended up." I sighed. "If there's a reason for me being here then I can't wait to figure it out. I just hope I don't break because of it."

"What do you mean?"

We were stopped in front of the door now.

As cliché as it was I looked up to the sky, only I didn't see anything. "Maybe I can do something to help. Maybe I can figure out a way to change things without it being completely detrimental to history. There's a weight on my shoulders that no one can help me with and I'm afraid. I'm afraid for what can change, and for what already has changed. There's no possible way to tell how it will affect everything and it's terrifying."

When Malark didn't say anything I looked over to him. He met my eye for a few seconds before he snorted and looked away.

"That was very philosophical of you, Drew,' he snarked.

I made a face at him. "Yeah yeah, just go to bed Malarkey," I retorted before I opened the door and tiptoed inside.

* * *

 _And that's that._

 _There's going to be more people who find out Drew's secret as the story progresses, obviously, but I'm going to try my best to make those situations realistic. Stay tuned for the next chapter, because that's going to go through Benning and Easy getting their wings, and maybe start Mackall, Bragg, and Shanks but I haven't actually planned that far ahead yet. However, I digress. I do plan on making some more introductions to other people so you also have that to look forward to._

 _Please feel free to tell me how I'm doing, and if you have any suggestions to make this story better, lay 'em on me._

 _Again, you guys rock._

 _Later Peeps._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey Hey Hey!_

 _Glad to see you all, thanks for coming back. You're great._

 _Not much to say up here, so catch me down at the bottom if you wanna hear a funny story about this chapter._

* * *

The way training at Fort Benning worked was we had four stages, A through D. Each stage lasted one week and in those weeks we had to learn everything and do our jumps. Then we finally earn our wings. It was an "out of the frying pan and into the fire" kind of training. And the Frying Pan, coincidentally enough, was what our training area was called.

Though our welcome at Benning wasn't quite as warm as we would have liked.

We had been there a few days when a group of 82nd paratroopers caught some of us coming out of the mess hall. Malark, Skip, the Joe's, Guarnere, and I stopped walking when we saw them. I knew what the others were thinking, because at one point I had thought the same thing. Idolization. Some of the 82nd had seen battle in North Africa and Sicily already, and all of them had jumped out of a plane. To them, we were the new meat, the fresh-faced greenies who had too much hype surrounding them.

"So, here come the long-walking, loud-talking, non- _jumping_ 'sonobitches' 506ers," one of them called out.

I commended my friend's self-control at the moment, because let's be honest, if we hadn't gone through Sobel and had discipline practically beaten into us, fists would have been flying.

Arguably, I was the calmest of the bunch. The others were mad because they hadn't jumped yet, and it was rubbed in their faces. I was mad because I had jumped. I could see it in the eyes of the 82nd bastards, they weren't the ones who had seen war. Their body language gave away their cockiness, they never jumped into battle. These punks had the gall to talk to me like they were the ones who were more experienced. I wanted to laugh.

We all walked away, though, with a poise I never thought could come from us. The atmosphere was somber. I felt for them, I really did. What those 82nd bastards said had gotten to the guys and it pissed me off even more.

At the very least, I knew we would prove them all wrong.

* * *

B stage started earlier than planned only because the 506th was what it was. A stage was supposed to be physical training. Thanks to 1st battalion, who had gotten to Benning before the others, running literal circles around the Sergeants we got to skip it. B stage was when we learned how to pack our own chutes. And unpack them. And repack them. And unpack them. And repack them. It was a whole, extremely tedious, thing. At the end we jumped from a 35-foot tower at Eubanks Field. Skip lovingly nicknamed it the "Tower of Destiny," that weirdo.

We held a silver dollar between our knees, and if you dropped that dollar when you landed, well it sucks to suck – "Keep your knees together!" We learned how to absorb the shock by landing on the side of your legs, then on the side of the hip, then your side under your arms, one after another.

During C stage we continued to jump from the 35-foot tower until we were ready to move on to a 250-foot tower for an even more realistic jump. Arguably the most critical skill we learned was how to identify a parachute malfunction and deal with it. C stage also included a wind machine so we could get used to gathering our canopies when we landed.

After three weeks we were finally at D stage. The real deal. Everyone was ready to earn their wings, though whether they would or not remained to be seen.

The night before our first daytime jump saw every man packing his chute. The air was buzzing with excitement and I was happy for them. I remember the first time I went through the process of earning my wings. It was a weird experience to say the least because I had gone through Benning the summer between my plebe and yuck year at West Point.

I had already packed my chute with practiced ease. Of course I still rechecked it once but after that I put it away and watched everyone else pack theirs for the third time. Their jumbled nerves and slight paranoia were endearing.

Reveille was at 0530 the next morning. Ecstatic was the only word I could use to describe the men as we walked to the hangers at Lawson Field.

When they herded us into our groups we were met by a Sergeant to give us our pre-jump pep talk.

"So do we feel like we're ready to become Army Paratroopers?" he called out from in front of his charts and other apparatus.

There was a resounding "Yes, Sergeant!"

I cringed mentally. Sixty-odd years in the future the answer to that question was, "Clear, Sergeant Airborne!" But I was able to hold that particular response back.

"I hope so. This will be the first of five exits from a C-47 aircraft scheduled. Upon successful completion of your fifth and final jump, you'll be certified Army paratroopers."

I smiled slightly and nudged both Guarnere and Liebgott on either side of me who looked nervous. I was so ready for this, I could barely keep my cool.

The Sergeant started pacing now. "There will be a lot of men jumping from the sky today, hopefully, under deployed canopies." He laughed at the end, trying to alleviate the tension. "Jumping from 1200 feet AGL, in sticks of 12 jumpers per aircraft, all you have to do is remember what you were taught, and I guarantee you gravity will take care of the rest.

"Now gentleman, rest assured, any refusal in the aircraft or at the door and you will be out of the Airborne."

There were a few more words of wisdom shared by the Sergeant before we were all whisked away to where the planes were waiting. Luckily it wasn't a hassle to get everyone on since we weren't wearing our full packs. When I stepped into the plane I pretty much got hit in the face with everyone's nerves. I could feel it – hell, I could practically taste it. I was fourth from the front. My stick was pretty random, but we at least had Winters and Nixon.

The sound of the C-47's engine rumbling to life was deafening in the best of ways. The fuselage was vibrating so much you could actually see the man next to you shaking. Though, that wasn't saying much considering they were shaking anyway. When the plane finally took off I felt like I had lost my stomach, something I had long become accustomed to. The other guys visibly turned green around the gills. I could be knitting right now, I was that calm.

Nixon, who was a man in front of me in the stick, started to make conversation. It was hard to do but, if it saved his nerves, to each his own.

I could just barely hear him shout "How are you feeling Masters?" over the engine.

And just because I could, I gave him my biggest shit-eating grin and shouted back "I'm as pretty as a peach, sir! I'm riding high!" It was even the truth too.

"Not nervous at all?"

"Are you kidding, sir? I wish I was a couple thousand feet higher in the air right now! I want to be able to free fall for a bit before my chute opens!"

He looked at me like I was some kind of other species. "Are you insane?"

"Probably!"

Before we knew it we were closing in on the DZ. What came after was a routine jump for me. As I was in the middle of falling I couldn't help but to think that this was the most important moment for the other soldiers here. This jump literally changed their lives.

I shook as I landed, a tingling running up my body. After expertly gathering my canopy I proceeded towards the meeting point. Sobel, who had landed near me, was struggling with his canopy. It was normal, but there was something funny about seeing him having the most trouble.

* * *

The next four jumps came and went. It wasn't long before we were all dressed in our class-A's, our shiny new Wings pinned on our chest, drinking away our grievances about training in a bar.

Smoke was in the air, music was playing, beer was passed around and refilled generously. I don't think I had been this content for a long while.

It was a very nice late Christmas present.

I was already two drinks deep when a round of chanting could be heard over the music. I looked around from my spot on the bar and saw Guarnere chugging a pint. I moseyed on over to the table just in time to see him pull his now empty glass away from the wings he had clenched between his teeth.

Everyone cheered and laughed in a way you can only achieve when you're feeling the buzz of a beer and a good time.

"Hi-Ho Silver!"

I was suddenly pulled away from the table by a Perconte.

"Hey Drew, I was just about to go see Martin, and I figured a dapper guy like me, and a slightly less dapper guy like you, could go and give him a hard time. What'd ya say?" he asked, despite the fact he was still pulling me with him.

I placed my half empty glass on a random table and strode in time with him. "Just for shits and giggles? How could I possibly say no?"

We spotted him and made our way over. Once Perco got close enough he put his boot up on the stool Johnny was using to tie his laces.

"Now just think, if you had any class or style like me, someone might have mistaken you for somebody."

I stood by, not actually participating but laughing all the same.

"You mean like your fucking Sergeant?" Martin asked without missing a beat. He shifted slightly to show off his newly sewn chevrons.

There was a pause when Perco finally processed that he had disrespected someone of a higher rank.

"I'm just kiddin'"

I couldn't keep a straight face, and neither could Martin. He winked at Perconte.

Perco shook his hand. "Congratulations Martin."

"What a time to be alive," I remarked. "Perco actually knows shame, Martin is doing something with his life. Why, I'm so happy I could make a speech."

Both of the guys looked at each other before looking back at me and I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"That sounds like a swell idea, actually," Martin said.

"You're completely right, I think he should make a speech," Perconte agreed.

I shook my head. "No. No way."

I was grabbed again and dragged towards the stage area.

Martin shouted over the music so everyone could hear "Hey! Who wants to hear Corporal Masters make a speech?"

There was a roar of agreement from the men.

"You're not supposed to agree with him you fuckers!" I yelled back when I was finally forced on stage.

They were all still cheering and chants of "speech" started popping up. I could do nothing more than give in.

I put my hands up. "Okay, okay, fine! But you lot have to shut the hell up because if you don't hear it, I'm not repeating it, and I have a lot of feelings about this."

The room quieted and the music was turned down the slightest. I glared at all of their smug faces.

"You guys suck," I muttered before I started. And when I started, boy did I _start_.

"We're beginning to look like something. It pains me that we're beginning to look like something. We're embarking on a monumental mission. A mission unlike anything that's been undertaken in history. Are we ready to do this? Can we handle a project like this? Can this unit pull it off? I think we can!"

Cheers sounded in agreement.

"Because it's gotta be done. It's gonna take all of your courage, all of your tenacity, all of your focus and all of your concentration. And it's gonna take it for a long time. We all hit walls out here; we hit physical walls, we hit psychological walls, we hit emotional walls. Well here's the neat thing, we broke through every fucking one of them." A few more hoots went around.

"We're in a place now where we're more capable - as a human being, as a soldier - so don't blow it. Do the right thing.

"You have earned where you are. You won't believe the change in you. We are some rock and roll paratrooper mother fuckers standing in here. This is the unit. We're here. This is what we worked so hard to build. This is what's going to make this swim, or make it sink. We're fucking awesome.

"Your familiarity with each other, the way you work together without even thinking about it, I'm seeing it every day, more and more. The truth is in you, and the truth will come out of you, through your actions, through your wearing of this uniform, the truth is there. Let it shine men, let it shine.

"We've got the chance to make the world proud of Easy Company, and I consider that an honor. I consider it an honor to be here and have the opportunity to salute you men."

I almost got choked up on my own words.

"What we've earned is the right to call ourselves Easy Company. And that, men, is a high honor." I paused, let my words sink in for a second.

"Let's not fuck it up."

The reaction I got was not what I had expected. The guys were uproarious. They were yelling, clapping, whistling, and banging their glasses on the tables. When I hopped off the stage I got clapped on the back more times than I could count.

Before I could get another drink the music cut out.

"Ten-hut!"

I, as well as every other man, was standing at attention in a second.

Colonel Sink walked in and stepped onto the stage.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Corporal," he said when he spotted me in the front. "Well, at ease paratroopers."

We relaxed only slightly.

"Good evening, Easy Company."

"Good evening, Sir!"

"Now considering Corporal Masters just gave a damn fine speech, I'll just reiterate. Parachute infantry is a brand new concept in American military history. But by God the 506th is going to forge that brand new concept into victory."

There was a resounding "yeah."

"I want you to know that I am damned proud of each and every one of you. Now, you deserve this party."

At that point, Grant walked up and gave the Colonel a drink.

"Thank you, Sergeant Grant."

"Sir."

"So I want you to have fun, and remember our motto: Currahee!"

"Currahee!"

And so the drinking continued. I found my way back to the bar and had Luz hook me up with another pint, finally.

I reveled in the atmosphere as I sipped my beer. It was so familiar.

Someone brushed up against me while getting a drink at the bar and I absentmindedly scooted over to give them more room.

"It's not often you see someone who's not an officer command the attention of a room like you did."

I looked up and nearly spat out my drink. Nearly. I didn't though. I was very dignified about it. A dignified surprised reaction, if you will.

I set my drink down on the bar before I made a fool of myself with it. "It's not often seen because the chance is not often given." I gave a salute, to which he returned.

"Lieutenant Speirs, sir. I didn't think Dog company was having a shindig tonight."

He sipped his own beer, my own completely forgotten. "Dog is out at another bar, but I was invited here by your officers. I figured why not come."

"Very polite of you, if I may say."

"That surprises you?"

I smirked. "Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours, Corporal."

Now that surprised me. "I have a reputation?"

He nodded. "You act more like a Lieutenant than Sobel does. I was curious to see what kind of man you were, that you could act that way. But I think I see it now. Dog company could use someone like you."

"And you will be a God-send to Easy company, sir," I replied without missing a beat. "And you'll find that I'm not as much of a man as people seem to think."

It just slipped out. ' _I can't believe I just said that – oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck'_

He seemed to mull it over. "War will turn any boy into a man. If that's what you think, then you'll see yourself change once everything heats up. You have potential, so I hope you make it through alive. Excuse me."

And he walked away. Just like that. Didn't even care that he nearly gave me a heart attack twice over.

 _'Oh fuck me'_ I thought as I chugged the rest of my beer. ' _I was totally trying to flirt with him_.'

* * *

March saw us all at Camp Mackall in North Carolina. It was like going from prison to freedom. There were five movie theaters and six huge beer gardens. Not to mention the barracks were heated and the cots actually had mattresses on them.

Training picked up once again when we moved. When we jumped we had full gear: food, ammunition, maps, grenades, various explosives. I really felt for the guys who had to jump with their bazookas, machine-guns, or mortars. Some of them were jumping with an extra 100 pounds.

Malarkey had kindly given me a god-damned heart attack during our tenth jump. His canopy had lost five panels. During his rapid decent he had thrown his reserve chute the same way he was oscillating, instead of the opposite way like you were supposed to. When we got him untangled from the trees where he landed I gave him a _thorough_ chewing out. Like, it was bad. I think I went on for a solid ten minutes about packing a chute and "how could you leave a shot-bag in there!?" I ended it with saying how moments like those you can't afford to not think. "Throwing it the same way, Jesus, how thick can you get?"

Later that night I pulled him aside to apologize.

"I could have lost you Malark."

"I know. You had every right to go off on me. I'm sorry Drew."

Though as frustrated as I was with Malarkey then, it couldn't even compare to how frustrated I was at this very moment.

"Petty! Map! Come on!"

My eye twitched as Sobel's voice carried over to my position.

Once he started fidgeting over the map I knew we were screwed. Our luck had never been drier. What we needed to do was wait-out the "enemy" in our position. I could play the waiting game for as long as we needed but it seemed Sobel was completely incapable of doing the same.

"Second Platoon, move out," Lieutenant Winters ordered. "Tactical column."

"God bless America," I muttered to myself. While I was unhappy with the order I knew I had no one to blame but Sobel. We moved swiftly from our _textbook position for ambush_ and began making our way through the trees.

It didn't take long for us to walk straight into the enemy's position.

The major in charge of the drill came over to us. "Captain, you've just been killed along with 95% of your company. Your outfit?" he asked.

There was a begrudging answer of "Easy Company, second battalion, 506th."

The major wrote it down. "Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area."

This was the last straw for a lot of the men. During the rest of our stay at Mackall they put Sobel through as much hell as they could without getting caught. Maps and compasses got "misplaced," directions were "lost in translation," and fun times were had. For us at least.

* * *

We were bouncing around different states for the next few months. We went to Kentucky, Tennessee, and Indiana. After another ten day furlough, where I stayed on base as I always did, we found ourselves back in North Carolina at Fort Bragg.

Fort Bragg was the doorway to the real deal. You know that because it was a damn fine place. The food was better, there were beds in barracks and hot showers. We also had repeated inspections, got all the vaccinations we needed, and had new clothes, weapons, and gear handed out. It was a total reoutfitting.

In late August, the 506th boarded a train from North Carolina to New York.

And I could barely hear myself think. I was genuinely suffering. I don't see how anyone thought that putting this many soldiers on one train was a good idea, but whoever it was I wanted to have some words with them.

I got up from my bench seat and started walking down the line to try and get into a less jam-packed car. Which was a task in and of itself, let me tell you.

Eventually, after practically dancing around throngs of men, I somehow found myself in the officers car. By all accounts, I shouldn't have been there as an enlisted man. Well, technically an enlisted man. Even more technically a female officer, but who's keeping track?

I made my way down the line until I saw Lieutenant Winters and Lieutenant Welsh, the latter asleep.

I reclined on the bench behind them. "Lieutenant Welsh has the right idea, don't you think, sir?"

He twitched, and his brow raised the slightest when he looked back and saw me. "Corporal Masters, seeing as you're in the officers car should I congratulate you on a promotion?"

"You know sir, you should make jokes more often."

"Why are you here, Masters?"

"I'm attempting to save whatever bit of sanity I may or may not have left."

I saw him give a small smile. "The men giving you a hard time?"

"There's shouting and gambling, and shouting because of the gambling," I sighed. "I was about to commit murder. But then I thought to myself "Hey Drew, that's probably not a good idea," so I took a walk instead."

He chuckled. "Good on you."

"Thank you, sir."

It was at that point that Lieutenant Nixon turned up and sat next to me on the bench. He gave me a once over, a wink, and then addressed Winters. "Going my way?"

"Wherever the train takes me," Winters replied as he continued to write his letter.

Nixon tried to tempt Winters to ask more questions. "Where do you suppose that might be?"

Winters wasn't having any of it. "Haven't got a clue."

I laughed.

"Yeah, come on, take a guess. Atlantic, Pacific? Atlantic?"

"I'm not the intelligence officer."

"Well as such, I of course know, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you." He was really showing off his role as an intelligence officer, that's for sure.

"So don't tell me."

He moved so he was in front of Winters. "Masters, as an enlisted man, just pretend you don't hear anything."

"I don't know what you mean, sir. I'm not even here right now,"

He laughed. "New York City, troop ship, England. We're invading Europe my friend. Fortress Europa." There was a pause. "Did you get any of that, Masters?"

I tried my best to look surprised. "I'm sorry, what was that, sir? I seem to have gone temporarily deaf and missed the last thirty seconds of conversation."

"I knew I liked you for a reason." He took a swig from his flask and offered it to Winters.

The look Winters gave it was so scathing. "Since when do I drink?"

I smiled to myself. I loved me some sassy Winters.

"Well if I thought you'd drink it I wouldn't offer it to you."

I ended up zoning out the rest of their conversation. Thinking about everything, it made me wonder how I was going get through this. I wasn't worried about getting through it physically. Unless something happened and I ended up getting captured again – panic shot through my body at the thought. No, what I was worried about was my mental capacity to actually go to war again. I've had many a restless night since I found myself here, as everyone in my barrack knows.

I can't imagine having a night like that in the middle of a battle field. The only thing I could do was just try and compartmentalize as much as I could. Keep my head straight. The last thing I wanted was to get sent somewhere away from my men because they found out about my PTSD. I almost laughed. They weren't even _my_ men. I was just a lowly Corporal. Would that stop me from treating them like my men? Not in the slightest. But it was still hard being just an enlisted man.

At least I had a boat ride to figure myself out. By the time we get to England I would need to have my head sorted out.

Lucky I was good at doing that.

The train ride lasted another few hours, all of which I slept through in the officers car. When we disembarked, we were immediately driven thirty miles up the Hudson River to Camp Shanks.

Yours truly managed to scrounge up some whiskey one night, and I was treated like a god because of it. To bad for the guys though, the only alcohol they've had was beer, so they were completely smashed after a few drinks. I, however, had acquired the taste for Scotch. So while the others were drunk off their asses, I was laughing at them.

The next morning was hangover central. After a short ferry we got hot coffee and doughnuts which managed to help for the most part. Before we got to our boat we were told we couldn't wear our jump boots or our Screaming Eagle patch. Nobody liked that. But we all walked single file up the gangplank lugging our bags and weapons.

Then we finally set sail for England. Fortress Europa indeed.

* * *

 _Heck yeah, we made it to England._

 _Also Drew finally met our beloved Lieutenant Speirs. I hope you like how I portrayed him well. (You should leave a comment and tell me how I did *winky face*)_

 _So funny story about this chapter, I would've had it up last weekend but I ended up getting food poisoning and only just got my appetite back Thursday. It was hard to want to do anything, least of all finish this chapter. But I was really in the mood to write the last two days so we good._

 _... Yeah it's not that much of a funny story really._

 _Oh well._

 _I NEED YOUR HELP!_

 _I really don't know who I want Drew to get with. Personally, I'm stuck between Malarkey and Speirs. So if you could be a doll and drop me a line with your opinion on who it should be, I would love you forever. Even if it's neither of those two. I need opinions of people who actually know Band of Brothers._

 _Please and thank you._


	5. Chapter 5

_Yo, long time no talk. College picked up these last two months and I got swept away in all the stuffs. But it's officially summer for me now and I can only hope that it means I can write more. No promises though, I'm a chronic procrastinator._

 _Anyway I wanted to get this chapter up for Memorial Day, and I plan on getting the next one up within the week, week and half at the most._

 _Other than that, continue reading at your leisure._

* * *

"Dear Sir or Madam, soon your son will drop from the sky to engage and defeat the enemy. He will have the best of weapons, and equipment, and have had months of hard and strenuous training to prepare him for success on the battlefield. Your frequent letters of love and encouragement will arm him with a fighting heart. With that, he cannot fail, but will win glory for himself, make you proud of him, and his country ever grateful for his service in its hour of need."

Herbert M. Sobel, Capt., Commanding

* * *

The SS Samaria reminded me why I preferred air travel over sea travel. It was awful. The ship's max capacity was 1000 but it was carrying literally five times that now. Food and water were rationed, showers ran cold salt water, and we had to wear life jackets 24/7 because this situation was not regulation at all. Let me paint a picture: I was miserable, my bunk partner was miserable, the guy next to me was miserable, everyone was miserable. And don't even get me started on the smell. Now I've smelled some dank shit in my day, but this was pushing my limits.

I was chilling in my bunk when Skip came meandering down the lane with Malarkey behind him, bumping against every other man down low. "Right now, some lucky bastard's heading for the South Pacific," Skip started. "He's gonna get billeted on some tropical island, sit under a palm tree with six naked native girls, helping him cut up coconuts, so he can hand-feed them to the flamingos."

"Flamingos are mean; they bite," Joe Domingus commented from his bunk as they passed.

"So do the naked native girls."

"With any luck," Perconte remarked.

I looked down from my bunk above Toye. "I don't want to be anywhere near the Pacific." I sat up. "There would be no worse place to be in this God-forsaken war than there. It ain't all sunshine and daises like you think. I pray for those men."

Joe's gruff voice cut through the chatter. "Yeah, I'm glad I'm going to Europe. Hitler gets one of these," he flipped out his pocket knife, "right across the windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day, and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life."

I thought about it. "I'd celebrate Joe Toye Day. Thanksgiving is a stupid holiday anyway."

"What if we don't get Europe?" Smokey asked. "What if they send us to North Africa?"

Guarnere, who was below him, spoke up. "My brother's in North Africa – he says it's hot."

"Really? It's hot in Africa?" Malarkey sassed from behind his magazine.

"Shut up," Guarnere drawled. "Point is, it don't matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust if yourself and the fella next to ya."

"Hey," Joe rolled over. "Long as he's a paratrooper."

"Oh yeah?" Luz began climbing up to his bunk. "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?"

Christenson joined the conversation just then. "If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving on down the line. Hook up with some other officer, like, eh, Heyliger or Winters."

"I like Winters, he's a good man. But when the bullets start flying," Guarnere sounded skeptical, "I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me."

It was at this point that I jumped down from my bunk. I knew it was gonna get tense in a minute and I needed to be able to do damage control.

"How do you know he's a Quaker?" Skip's voice traveled from wherever he'd disappeared to.

Guarnere got up from his bunk. "He ain't Catholic," he said like it was obvious.

"Neither is Sobel."

The amount of contempt I heard from Guarnere as he said, "That prick's a son of Abraham," was what I'd been worried about.

"He's what?" Lieb asked, probably hoping he had misheard something.

"He's a Jew." Oh, how I wish Guarnere had tact.

Lieb had not, in fact, heard wrong. "Oh, fuck." He threw his cigarette away and jumped down from his bunk to get in Guarnere's face. "I'm a Jew."

"Congratulations." Guarnere pushed him back. "Get your nose outta my face."

Lieb threw the first punch and it seemed like every man jumped on them to try and break it up. I didn't bother to try and muscle my way through because I knew I couldn't. I left that to the other guys. By the time Lieb and Guarnere were pulled apart they had a fair few bruises.

"Hey!" I yelled to get their attention. "You both need to chill the fuck out!" I was using my Lieutenant's voice, just daring them to keep it up.

Needless to say, Lieb wasn't happy with it. "You heard what he said! He's talking shit about my people!"

"I know that, but you need to calm down. I'll chew him out in a second but stop letting him provoke you."

Joe seethed, but he didn't keep going. I nodded at him in thanks. It was one less person I had to deal with for the moment. I turned to Guarnere. "And you."

He looked taken aback at my tone. "What'd I do?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," I snapped at him. "We're already fighting this war because of religion. Don't start petty fights over it."

"All I said was Winters' a Quaker and Sobel's a Jew."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation. "Just because Lieutenant Winters' isn't Catholic doesn't mean he's a Quaker. And Sobel's religious beliefs doesn't have anything to do with his shitty leadership," I paused. "Besides, I'm not a Catholic, but I'm sure as hell not a Quaker either."

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement. "What'd'ya mean you ain't Catholic?"

"I'm Agnostic." Glad to have alleviated the tension, the somewhat subject change was welcome. "Though, to be fair, I was raised Catholic."

"What's Agnostic?" Malarkey asked as he scooted over other bunks so I could see him.

I took a moment to figure out to best way to explain it. "Agnosticism is the belief in a higher power in the universe, but not one figure of any religion." That was the gist of it at least.

"I don't get it."

"Not many people do. It's hard to explain to someone who isn't Agnostic. Look at it like this, I don't believe in a "him," or a "her," or "they;" there's no person, it's just… it." I laughed to myself as I thought of something. "It's kind of like the Force, except I don't get any cool Jedi powers from it. Unfortunate, really."

I got more confused looks. "What's the Force?"

"Don't worry about it," I blew off the question.

* * *

The night before we were set to dock in Liverpool it was my turn to find some obscure hallway to sleep in. Though because there was practically no space even in the hallways I chose to go topside and just sleep on the deck. Not many men did this. As we got closer to England the September chill set in and nobody wanted to sleep in it. They'd rather be inside the ship. God knows why. Nights on this boat were nothing compared to nights in the desert.

I made myself comfortable and started to dose off to the sound of the water lapping up again the side of the boat.

-flash-

 _[Take it easy ma'am, you've been in a coma since we got you back]_

-flash-

 _[Therapy isn't a cure, but it can help in the long run]_

-flash-

 _[Your back is healing nicely, though I'm afraid the scars will never fade completely]_

-flash-

 _[Lieutenant don't do this! It's suicide!]_

-flash-

 _[You were taken on Saturday, September 15_ _th_ _, and for the next nine days…]_

-flash-

When I opened my eyes the sun was just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. I took a deep breath and whipped the blurriness from my eyes. It wasn't a surprise when my hand came back slightly damp. I hadn't even realized that today was the day. The day that I had condemned myself to that torture. I could feel the pain in my back even though it had happened so long ago.

It wasn't long before someone joined me on the deck.

"Hey Drew, we're gonna be disembarking soon. You should get ready – what happened?"

Malarkey was standing there looking worriedly down at me. I closed my eyes to make the redness go away.

"Drew?"

"You ever get phantom pains, Malark? Like something still hurts even though it's completely healed?"

He crouched next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. He was closer than I thought when I opened my eyes to look at him. He didn't even need to ask the question he was so clearly thinking.

"I suffered a trauma two years ago. Two years exactly, actually. It's never truly left me, and it never will. I'll always have the physical reminder of it and even now I can still feel it sting."

Malark shifted to get more comfortable. "You're talking about the scars on your back, aren't you?" he asked, almost nervously.

I nodded. "Skip told you that too, huh?" I couldn't even say that I was mad. I was only exhausted at this point.

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "I didn't think it was a good idea to mention it before you said something."

"Thanks." I gave him a small smile before I moved to get up. "We should get out stuff ready."

He hesitated. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I have to be."

Getting off the boat took a good few hours but it was a blessing to finally be on land again. We had docked in Liverpool and stayed the night before taking a train south in the morning. Trucks picked us up at the Ogbourne St. George station and took us most of the way to Aldbourne. Since the wartime blackout was in effect we marched the last mile and a half in the dark with only our flashlights to show the way. It was a good way to impress upon the men that we were now in a combat zone. When we finally got to our barracks we all passed out despite the uncomfortable mattresses and itchy wool blankets.

We started training the very next day and for the coming weeks we practiced hand-to-hand combat and close quarter bayonet striking. Lectures were finally put into serious practice. How to dig a foxhole 101 had Webster almost going 'ker-splat' under a tank, but it was fine. Also about once a week we would go on a two to three day training maneuver. Which was fun.

I'm lying, no it wasn't.

The only relief we got was our weekend passes to Swindon where, away from the small conservative village of Aldbourne, we could finally do some hell-raising.

The longer we stayed the more pressure we unconsciously put on ourselves. It showed itself during one of our training excursions where Easy was split up and we had to rendezvous at a set location. Luz, bless his soul, told me all about what happened in his group led by Sobel. Thank the powers above that I had been placed under Lieutenant Winters. While impersonating an officer was grounds for a court-martial, circumstance allowed me to gloss over it, just this one time, for Luz's sake. Plus the cows grazing around Battalion HQ was a hilarious sight to see.

Near the end of October I was promoted to Sergeant. The other guys threw me a nice party in London during one of our weekends off. The morning of October 30th I could be found lounging in a small Aldbourne pub slowly sipping a warm beer. The Blue Boar was designated the Officer's mess and enlisted men were strictly not allowed in. The the exception was that the owners of the pub were only allowed let enlisted men in when no officers were around. Like now.

I was miraculously by myself and I took full advantage of the peace and quiet. Of course, peace and quiet never lasted long.

The door to the pub was shoved open and Perconte, Bull, and Malarkey came running in. I sat up in my chair.

"Drew! Shit has hit the fan!"

"We overheard som'thn right crazy."

"I can't believe Sobel would do this. I mean I can, but I never thought he would!"

Worry creased my brow. _'Tell me it's not what I think it is,'_ I thought hopelessly. "What happened, exactly?"

"Lieutenant Winters has requested trial by court-martial according to Sergeant Evans," Perconte explained.

Malarkey cut in saying how smug Evans looked when he saw Winters earlier.

"We don't know the details though," Bull added.

"For fucks sake," I hissed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Alright, plan of action. I'll go figure out what's going on and you three keep this from spreading until we know everything." I didn't even wait for them to reply as I walked out of the Blue Boar and started my trek down the road. I had to find Nixon.

* * *

Almost two weeks had passed since the initial news of Winters' court-martial got out. Major Strayer, with all his wisdom and experience, thought it would be a good idea to transfer Winters out of Easy and made him battalion mess officer. That was the last straw for most of the N.C.O.s. Ranney and Harris had come up with the insane idea to give Colonel Sink an ultimatum: us or Sobel.

We met in the orderly room. Everyone jammed around a table, pencil and paper in front of us, and gave one last chance for anyone to back out.

"So we're going through with this, right?" Grant asked the table.

There was a general round of 'yes.'

"Alright," Lip nodded. "Good. But we all better be clear of the consequences."

Johnny Martin spoke up from the end of the table. "I don't care about the consequences."

"John, we could be lined up against a wall and shot. Now I'm ready to face that, and every one of us had better be to."

Lip looked around at us. His eyes landed on Guarnere.

"I will not follow that man into combat."

They landed on me.

"Sobel needs to go," I said softly. "If there's anything that will make that happen, it's this."

That cemented the idea for everyone. We picked up our pencils and began to write out the same message.

 _I hereby turn in my stripes. I no longer wish to serve as a non-commissioned officer in Company E._

We signed our names at the bottom.

"Alright boys." Lip got up and collected the papers. He would be the one delivering them. "Good luck."

They were put in Sobel's "in" basket. Even though they weren't delivered to Sink personally, he still caught wind of it. It was hard not to. Sink would have had to have been deaf, dumb, and blind not to have been aware.

A few days later we were all called into Sink's office for the telling off of a life time.

"I ought to have you all shot. There's nothing less than an act of mutiny while we prepare for the god-damn invasion of Europe. Sergeant Harris."

"Sir."

"Turn in your stripes and collect your gear. You are hereby transferred out of my regiment."

Harris saluted. "Sir."

"Get out."

As he left Sink addressed Ranney.

"Sir."

"You can consider yourself lucky I'm only busting you to private." He banged on the table. "All of you N.C.O.s have disgraced the 101st Airborne! You can consider yourself lucky that we are on the eve of the largest action in the history of warfare. Which leaves me no choice but to spare your lives. Now get out of my office and get out of my sight."

We all snapped up to salute.

"Get," Sink said, only sparing us a glance. "Except you, Sergeant Masters. You stay."

I stayed rooted to my spot as everyone turned to leave. It was nerve-wracking. I had no idea what Sink would say to me. If I was being demoted he would have said by now. Wouldn't he have?

When the door clicked shut there was silence. Sink continued doing whatever paperwork he was leaning over and I stood stock still.

A minute passed before he sat up and move the paper into another pile.

"Now I'm sure you're wondering why I had you stay," he asked.

"Yes, sir."

He sighed. "Out of all the noncoms, the last one I thought would mutiny was you. I hear others talk. Your promotion to Sergeant was a long time coming."

"I don't deserve the praise, sir."

He nodded. "After this you sure as hell don't. Which is why I want you to explain to me why you idiots thought that mutiny was a good idea."

I frowned minutely. "Permission to speak frankly, sir."

"Granted."

"Sobel will lead us into a massacre once the real fighting starts." Someone had to say it straight up. "With Lieutenant Winters gone, there are few left in Easy company capable enough to lead. Extreme measures had to be taken to show you that we need someone better as our C.O., sir."

Maybe I spoke too frankly, going by the look he was currently giving me, but it did need to be said.

"I see," he said slowly. "You've given me a lot to think about, Sergeant Masters. Now get out of my office."

I saluted and finally left. It was hard to discern whether his thinking was a good thing or a bad thing. There's a good chance I had condemned Easy company and everyone in it if Sink decided to have Sobel stay.

At midnight a few days later, Don Moone told us that Sobel had been transferred to Chilton Foliat.

* * *

2nd and 3rd Battalion made a combined jump near the end of March; it was by far the biggest one yet. What made it even more memorable was the appearance of the Prime Minister of England, Winston Churchill, the not-yet-president Dwight D. Eisenhower, General Maxwell Taylor, and other high up muckety-mucks.

Malarkey wouldn't shut up about how he talked to Eisenhower and Churchill. Then he would go on about his mortar skills, wherein Skip and Guarnere would join the conversation, and talk all about how they hit a target dead center three times in a row. I was happy for him, for sure, but after the first week it got a little tiresome.

Around the middle of April I realized that posing as a dude-bro 24/7 was fucking hard. I never thought I'd get to a point where I just wanted to be a _girl_ again. So I came up with a plan. A pretty good one, mind you, considering all the circumstances surrounding my precarious position.

I had money saved up from the extra fifty paratroopers got each month. And after exchanging I had a decent amount of pounds weighing down my money belt. So what did I do? Shopping, of course. I slipped out early in the morning when everyone in my billet was still asleep but the stores in the village were open. I went store to store buying everything I would need. I paid a little extra to the shop owners to keep them all hush-hush but they didn't seem entirely bothered by me. They seemed curious at most.

That night everyone was getting ready in their class-A's. Everyone except for me that is. I got questions, obviously, and was nagged like no end to get dressed, but in order to not miss the train to Swindon they had to go. Only when they were all gone, and I was sure no one was going to come back, did I finally start to get ready.

I slipped on the stockings over a fresh pair of my army boxers. I lost the bandages restricting my breasts and slipped on the dress. I didn't bother buying underwear so I just went bra-less; scandalous, I know. The dress was a halter top which caused it have a low back so I wrapped a matching shawl around my shoulders to hide my scars. After that I put the wig on to cover my short regulation hair cut. Some makeup here and there and I was finally ready.

It was easy enough to hitch a ride with some other late goers from Baker company to the station in Ogbourne St. George. Seriously, all I had to do was bat my lashes and fake the soft English country accent and I was golden.

The train ride was uneventful, but when I made it to Easy's usual Swindon hangout I felt almost giddy. I was positive no one would recognize me so I was free to be as feminine and flirty as I wanted. It was going to be a fun night.

I walked in and went immediately to the bar to buy myself a beer to get the night started. Unbeknownst to me, many of the men in the bar, Easy or other, looked over.

I was there a few minutes before the first soldier approached me. I wasn't surprised that it was Talbert of all people. He was always a flirt in the bars.

"Hey there," he started. "I couldn't help but to notice how well blue suits you."

I laughed lightly at his opening. "Thank you... sorry, what was your name?" I couldn't help but glance over at the table he had come from and saw the usual motley crew not so discretely watching us.

"Floyd Talbert," he took my offered hand and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. "But you can call me Floyd."

"Well then Floyd, would you like to dance?" I asked him, despite that fact I was already dragging him to the floor.

So that's what we did. After Tab I ended up dancing with Guarnere, Hoobler, Liebgott, Perconte, Toye, Malarkey, Luz, Skip, and a few from Dog and Fox company.

I was still happily buzzed when I stepped outside hours later. A lot of the guys from Easy were out here smoking in the cool air. I waved to them and they waved back before I walked a ways away, just to get some distance. I still couldn't believe I danced with most of them and no one knew it was me.

As I was basking in the breeze I felt someone spin me around and pull me to their chest. If it had been someone I knew I wouldn't have worried about it but, the thing was, I didn't know this soldier. It didn't help that he absolutely reeked of alcohol. I pushed him away and glared.

This was not going to be fun. "You're drunk, soldier. I suggest you go back into the pub before you force my hand."

I glanced to the side and saw my guys starting to walk over. Guess they thought I was a damsel in distress.

"Heeeyyy, cummon baby, d'nt be like tht," the drunkard slurred.

It was his unlucky day that I didn't have much patience left. I grabbed his arm as he reached for me and flipped him over my shoulder and onto the hard concrete. Then I punched him in the face.

One time to break his nose.

Another time to sober him up.

"State your rank, name, and company," I commanded, keeping his arm pinned.

He couldn't speak that clearly but he managed to get out a "private DiMarzio, dog."

I heard running behind me and a "what the fuck?" when my boys got close enough.

I looked up at them and saw varying degrees of shock on their faces. "I saw Speirs in the pub earlier; one of you lot go get him." No accent, no added lightness to my voice, I wasn't hiding anymore. Shit.

They all startled more when they realized they recognized my voice. "Who are you?" Poor, poor Tab was the one to ask the question.

I wish I had been in a better mood. "Oh for the love of-" I stood up, ripped my wig off and combed a had through my hair.

"What the fuck?"

"You can't be -!"

"Joking! You gotta be joking!"

"What the fuck!"

"Drew?!"

"Cat's outta the bag now," I muttered to myself. I glared and held up my hand. They all quieted down. "Someone go get Speirs. Then I'll explain."

Martin was the one to run back inside. In the back of the group I saw Skip and Malark glancing between each other and myself. If I wasn't still pissed at the guy, DeMarzio, I probably would have pouted.

Not long after, Martin came back out with Speirs in tow. Speirs looked over the strange scene with a raised brow.

His eyes stopped on me and they narrowed. I met his gaze head on and we just kind of stared at each other for few seconds.

"I'm going to ignore the elephant in the room for now, Sergeant Masters, and ask why one of my men is laying bleeding on the ground?"

I shrugged. "Funny story really. This piece of trash made an unwanted pass at me so I kicked his ass."

"I see." he paused. "And now the obvious, if you will."

"Not much to it when you think about it," I sighed. "I've been masquerading as a man so I could be a paratrooper. Didn't really have much of a choice to begin with."

His eye twitched minutely. So that may not have been exactly the answer he was looking for. It was the only one I could give him though, and it wasn't much different than what I'd already told Skip and Malark.

"Everyone in Easy company is to return to Aldbourne on the next train," Speirs ordered. "Inform those who may still be inside."

No one was keen on disobeying a ranking officer so that's exactly what we did. I had put my wig back on after DiMarzio was hauled off and we were all walking back to the station. It was better to keep up pretenses while arriving in Aldbourne.

When we all got back to our billet, and after I had changed back in to normal clothes, the questions started flying. Those who weren't at the pub were brought into the loop and I wouldn't be surprised if by tomorrow the whole of second battalion knew my secret. All of my work down the drain in one night. The questions never seemed to stop. I also finally explained why I had tried to kill Skip in the barracks all those months ago. I didn't get a decent amount of sleep for what I was undoubtedly going to face tomorrow.

And boy was it something.

I had awoken to a messenger saying I was to report to the Blue Boar. Fuck me, am I right?

When I arrived the tables were arranged so the officers were on one side and I sat on a single chair across from them. I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared shitless. I hid it well though, if I do say so myself.

My "committee," so to speak, consisted of Lieutenants Meehan, Heyliger, Winters, Nixon, Welsh, Compton, and Speirs, naturally.

The beginning wasn't so hard. I gave them my reasoning as I had given everyone else the previous night. It was harder to say how Skip and Malark had known since Toccoa and why they hadn't said anything, at my insistence, of course. I still answered all of their questions as they came.

When it got to the incident last night and my decisions leading up to it I could only say how tired I was of pretending to be a man. I wanted some sort of freedom, and I never planned on things going the way they did.

A decision was coming, I could feel it. "If I may say something in my defense, sirs?"

"Go ahead," Meehan allowed.

"I've been in Easy company since day one at Toccoa, nearly two years ago. I believe I have earned my spot in this company, and I don't think I would be a Sergeant now if you didn't think I deserved it. If my actions before last night have been sub-par then I understand any decision you make that would remove me from Easy company and the Airborne Division. I just ask that you take into consideration all that I have done before and that my gender has not stopped me yet from fulfilling any task delegated to me."

They took a second to really take in what I had said. "Well I can attest to that," Nixon spoke up for the first time. "Even after I found out in Benning I still had a hard time believing it 'cause you hid it so well." He smiled.

I think "gobsmacked" would be a good description of what I felt at that moment. "You- " I didn't even know what I was trying to say. "You've known since Benning?" I tacked on a "sir" as an after thought.

"Well of course, I'm not the intelligence officer for nothing. I didn't say anything because I wanted to see how it developed. If you hadn't performed as well as you have then I would've brought it up earlier."

That smug fucking bastard.

Winters was giving him an almost scathingly dry look from down the table. "Given that Lieutenant Nixon has known and chose to give you a chance," he started. "and seeing first hand how you perform, I believe that keeping you in Easy company would not be the worst decision."

I had to try really hard not to smile at that. I had a chance.

"Of course," Winters continued, "the final decision lies with the Commanding Officer."

I looked at Meehan. He was thinking hard, I could tell. When he shifted and began to speak I sat a little straighter in my seat.

"I have not known you long, Sergeant Masters. However, I am willing to take a chance, on the recommendation of those who have known you, in keeping you in Easy company as you are," he spoke slowly and surely, and that was all I could have asked for.

"Thank you, sir." I grinned at him. "You won't regret it."

He nodded. "Your circumstance will not reach the higher ups as long as you keep up the pretense of being male for the rest of this campaign." He gave me a stern look. "Nothing like last night can happen again or I will be forced to bring it up again in front of those who will not be as kind as we are."

It was my turn to nod. "I understand completely, sir."

"Good," he said. "Then you are dismissed, Sergeant Masters."

I rose from my chair and gave all of them a salute, which was returned. I marched out of the Blue Boar with my head held high and a light feeling in my chest.

This was the best possible outcome I could have asked for.

* * *

 _Sooooooooo... everyone knows now. Tbh I've had that scene planned for a while now, I just didn't know it was going to happen this chapter. Things just kinda went that way._

 _Also, in case you were curious, up top when I gave the date "Saturday, September 15th" that happened in 2007. Drew was 23 at the time._

 _And finally, since I asked you guys last chapter who you think Drew should get with, I figured I should tell you how it's going so far. So, as it stands, the numbers are:_

 _Malarkey: 2_

 _Speirs: 3_

 _Both: 1_

 _Joe Toye: 1_

 _I'll still take reviews saying who you want, but I think I'll ultimately make my decision within the next two chapters or so._

 _It's gonna be a fun time._

 _As always I hope you like this chapter, and feel free to hmu with whatever in the reviews._

 _You're great._


	6. Chapter 6

_What's this? An update? On D-Day? And this chapter includes D-Day? And it's the 6th chapter? Updated on the 6th? SYMBOLISM?!_

 _Fun fact: June 6th, 1944 was also a Tuesday._

* * *

The fact of the matter was, Army gossip sucked ass. Since my meeting with the Lieutenants, and the subsequent party in the billet when everyone found out I was staying, the rumor mill did its thing. By the end of the day I confirmed the rumors for those in Easy who asked. By the end of the week most of second battalion had at least some idea that I wasn't who I said I was. Which ultimately made my life a whole lot harder and my patience a whole lot thinner.

But there was no one to blame but myself. I can't believe I was that fucking stupid to think that I could pull off that stunt. Did I know some drunk piece of trash was going to force my hand and make me out myself in the process? Of course not. But it happened and there's nothing I could do about it now. No denying it though, it was a rather unbelievable situation to begin with.

When May rolled around training intensified even more. We were making more and more fully equipped jumps. They went smoothly... for Easy company that was. "Operation Eagle" was the code name for D-Day's dress rehearsal. Second Battalion headquarters and the group they were with ran into a German air raid over London. Some of those men were dropped miles away from their DZ. Most of the planes returned with the paratroopers still on board.

As far as things go, I think that could have classified as a train wreck.

By the last day of May, all of our practice jumps were behind us. Soon we were all shepherded into trucks and driven a hundred miles to the airfield in Upottery. Getting off the trucks was a chore in and of itself. I looked around. Some of the English soldiers were walking around in German uniforms so we would get used to seeing and picking them out.

One week from now and it wouldn't be our allies in the uniform but our enemy.

We were also finally being briefed on the individual missions that would take place on D-Day.

"Sainte-Marie-du-Mont: causeway number one. Causeway number two: the ultimate field problem." Lieutenant Meehan was pacing in front of multiple maps while briefing us. "The estuary of the Douve River divides two beach-heads, code name Utah and Omaha. Seaborne infantry will hit these beaches in force in a date and time to be specified; H-hour, D-day."

I heard some general rumblings from where I was sitting beside Liebgott and Popeye. Guess it was finally getting real for people.

Meehan continued. "The Airborne's objective, gentleman, is to take the town of Carentan, thus linking Utah and Omaha into one continuous beach-head. Each trooper will learn this operation by heart, and know his and every other outfit's mission to the detail."

"Lieutenant Meehan?" Dukeman stood up from his seat near the back.

Meehan pointed. "Yes, Dukeman?"

"Sir, are we dropping tonight?"

"When it's time for you to know, we'll let you know. In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps, and reconnaissance photos until you can draw a map of the area by memory. Now we will drop behind this Atlantic Wall," He motioned to the biggest map in the middle of all the others, "five hours before the 4th Infantry lands in Utah."

The map showed a blown up picture of Normandy's coast as well as the separated beaches and the towns inland.

"Between our assembly area and the Battalion's objective, there is a German garrison right here in this area," his hand hovered over a spot near the coast, "Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Easy company will destroy that garrison."

After the general lecture we were shown the sand tables and got a closer look at the maps to memorize. That's essentially what we did for the next day and a half.

When June 4th came around everyone was given ammunition, ten bucks worth of French franks, and a silk map and brass compass. An American flag patch was also handed out to be sewn on the right sleeve of our jackets. As an N.C.O. I had to remove my insignia and paint horizontal stripes on the back of my helmet so I could be identified by allies.

I packed my leg bag but kept whatever weapon, ammo, and equipment I could on my person. I knew how this whole thing went down. I went around to the other men helping when I could.

I was ready. They were ready.

Too bad we all had to wait another day. That was the hard part, getting prepped for the jump tonight knowing it would be pointless. But it's not like I could say anything about it. Well, I could, but I don't think it would have turn out well.

"Easy company!"

I looked around and saw Lieutenant Meehan standing on the hood of a jeep. This was it, then.

"Listen up! Gather around me. Move it up! Come on, gentleman. Let's go!"

People muttered to each other as we all gathered around the jeep all asking the same question: what now?

Once Meehan saw we were around he continued. "The Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog; high winds on the drop zone. No. Jump. Tonight."

Groans and curses filled the air. Bags and helmets hit the ground as they were thrown down.

"The invasion has been postponed, we're on a 24 hour stand down."

I could only nod. When the crowd dispersed I found myself walking aimlessly around the encampment. I ditched most of my equipment near my tent so I knew where it was for tomorrow. There wasn't much to be done now. There was a movie playing in one of the tents but I didn't feel like trying to sit through it.

I did end up walking by the tent eventually. I didn't go in. When I walked around the corner I saw Guarnere sitting on a crate clutching what looked like a letter in his fists.

"Hey Guarnere, what's up?" I asked casually as I walked over to him.

He didn't respond. He didn't even move.

"Guarnere?" I tried again when I got closer. Still nothing. "Bill?"

I sat next to him. He was tense and his jaw was set. When he finally glanced at me I recognized the look in his eyes.

"Who?"

Without another word he thrust the slightly crumpled letter over to me. I opened it and began to read.

 _My dearest Johnny_

 _How I wish you were here to see the spring time. It looks like the snow is finally gone for good and there's more green in our garden every time I look outside. If only your letters would get here a little faster and have a little less information removed from them. After all day at work my greatest thrill is finding a letter from you waiting for me. But it's never enough. I want to see what you see, so I could know that you're alright._

 _I also got a letter yesterday from Franny about Bill Guarnere's older brother. He was killed at Monte Cassino, Italy. Bill doesn't know. Franny told me in confidence._

Shit, now I remembered.

I didn't bother to read the rest of the letter. I handed it back and he stuffed it in his – Johnny's – jacket.

"Where the fuck is Monte Cassino?" he asked, still looking at the ground.

"Somewhere between Rome and Naples if I'm not mistaken," I said, trying to drum up the geography of Italy in my mind.

He shifted. "Sounds like a shitty place."

"Dying is a shitty thing. Not for the person who dies, but for everyone that knew them who's still alive."

"Ya know doll-face, you're not very good at the whole 'making people feel better' thing," he scoffed.

I shrugged. "I figured if you're anything like me then I know you wouldn't want any sugar-coated bullshit." I looked at him. "I know what it's like to lose a brother. Maybe not a biological brother, but a brother all the same. And I speak from experience when I say there aren't enough bullets in the world to make up for the life taken."

He looked at me. "Experience?"

"Let's just say this isn't my first rodeo," I gave him a coy smile and squeezed his hand before I got off the crate. "You should get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow." I started to walk away. Before I got too far I turned around. "And don't think you can get away with calling me 'doll-face' just because you know now! It's still Drew to you!"

He looked up and finally cracked a smile, if only a small one. "Whatever ya say, doll-face."

I ignored the remark and walked on.

* * *

By the afternoon of June 5th word came down the line that the jump was on.

Black paint and charcoal were passed around for camouflage. Some of the men just rubbed it on their face but other made designs like the Sioux Indians. I was in the first group – I just rubbed it on my fingers and swiped it down each side of my face and then my nose, chin and neck.

It was 2030 hours by the time we all lined up to make our march to the hangers. You knew it was something real because the Brits were actually tearing up at seeing us.

When we got there I went around helping my guys tighten all the bells and whistles of their equipment. Everyone was wearing so much shit that they could barely bend over without risk of face planting.

"Take any weapon, ammo, or equipment you can and put it on your person," I told them. It was the most I could do.

After assisting where I could I walked over to my stick where Lieutenant Welsh was waiting for everyone else.

"You ready for this?" He asked me.

"Are you?" I echoed.

"Is anyone?"

I laughed a little, "Hell no."

More people began to gather: Skinny Sisk, Cobb, Luz, Smokey Gordon, and others. It was finally time to get on the plane. There was just one problem though.

"Jesus Christ Luz! You need to go on a diet!" I yelled as Sisk and I tried to shove him up the ladder. A few Air Corps guys came over and together we finally managed to get him up there.

"It's not the fat I need to lose, Drew, it's the radio," he snarked back at me. I stuck my tongue out.

Smokey and Sisk were next in the stick, followed by me and then Cobb.

Luz turned around to Welsh when he climbed up. "Lieutenant, you got me fifth man in the stick. I'll never make it to the door."

"Alright fine," Welsh said then looked around. "Cobb, switch with Luz so he can get his overloaded ass out of the plane."

And so they did. Which may or may not have been a good thing because now Luz and I were sitting across from each other. Mayhem was sure to ensue.

It would be a few more minutes before the engines started and not long after that we would finally be in the sky.

Welsh handed out air-sickness pills and ordered everybody to take one now, and another thirty minutes in the air. I didn't bother to take mine. They weren't even for your stomach anyway, they were more for your nerves while we flew to Normandy. This was probably the one time I wouldn't be freaking out. This I was used to.

I closed my eyes and tried to get as comfortable as I could in my seat. I didn't plan on sleeping but I at least took the time to rest my eyes and get into the right mindset.

I was muttering words under my breath when Luz knocked my foot with his. I opened my eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. "Can I help you?"

"What're you saying?" he asked.

"Something I always say before I make a combat jump. You want to hear it?"

He nodded.

"Alright." I leaned over to him so he could hear better.

"I am an Airborne trooper. A Paratrooper.

"I jump by parachute from any plane in flight. I volunteered to do it, knowing well the hazards of my choice.

"I serve in a mighty Airborne Force – famed for deeds in war – renowned for readiness in peace. It is my pledge to uphold its honor and prestige in all I am – in all I do.

"I am an elite trooper – a sky trooper – a shock trooper – a spearhead trooper. I blaze the way to far-flung goals – behind, before, above the foe's front line.

"I know that I may have to fight without support for days on end. Therefore, I keep mind and body always fit to do my part in any Airborne task. I am self-reliant and unafraid. I shoot true, and march fast and far. I fight hard and excel in every art and artifice of war.

"I never fail a fellow trooper. I cherish as a sacred trust the lives of men with whom I serve. Leaders have my fullest loyalty, and those I lead never find me lacking.

"I have pride in the Airborne. I never let it down.

"In peace, I do not shrink the dullest duty not protest the toughest training. My weapons and equipment are always combat ready. I am neat of dress – military in courtesy – proper in conduct and behavior.

"In battle, I fear no foe's ability, nor under-estimate his prowess, power and guile. I fight him with all my might and skills – ever alert to evade capture or escape a trap. I never surrender, though I be the last.

"My goal in peace or war is to succeed in any mission of the day – or die, if needs be, in the try.

"I belong to a proud and glorious team – the Airborne, the Army, my Country. I am its chosen pride to fight where others may not go – to serve them well until the final victory.

"I am a trooper of the sky. I am my Nation's best. In peace and war I never fail. Anywhere, anytime, in anything.

"I am Airborne."

The engines started up as soon as I finished. Luz was once again looking at me like I was insane. I'd take that. I probably was.

I winked at him when he could no longer hear me. When the plane started to move I closed my eyes again. I don't think I actually went to sleep; I was in that weird in-between state where I wasn't dreaming but I wasn't entirely conscious either.

The first few hours of flight were uneventful. I was brought out of my daze when Luz kicked my foot again. Lieutenant Welsh was sitting by the open door so Luz had a clear look outside from where he sat.

"Look!" he shouted to me over the roar of the engine.

I slipped out of my seat and stepped over to the door. The sight that met me was one I thought I would only see in a dream. Thousands of ships were sailing across the English Channel on their way to the beaches.

The view was absolutely beautiful. For now at least. I sat back in my seat and thought about it. I'll take what I could get.

We headed west over the Cherbourg Peninsula and straight into a cloud bank. Not long after that did everything go to hell in a hand basket.

To the inexperienced ear, it probably sounded like thunder. Those were the big guns. Flak could be heard pelting against the exterior of the plane. Search lights were pointed skyward right at us.

Everyone and everything was thrown around the interior. The planes bobbed and weaved in the sky trying to dodge what they could.

The red light blinked on.

Welsh was up. "Get ready!" he called.

I reached back to grab my hook.

"Stand up!"

We did.

"Hook up!"

Hooks were connected to the static line.

"Equipment check!"

I patted down Luz who was in front of me. I felt someone doing the same to me from behind.

"Sound off for equipment check!"

It started at 20, then 19, 18, 17, all the way down to 1: Lieutenant Welsh.

"Jesus Christ! Let's go! Let's go!" I heard someone yell behind me.

Welsh looked back. "Does that light look green to you!?" he yelled.

"Let's go!"

The sound of tearing metal filled my ears.

"Agh! I'm hit!" That was Cobb, I knew it was.

Cobb, who took Luz's place on the plane.

' _That could have been Luz who got hit,_ ' I thought in horror.

"Can you stand up?" Welsh shouted.

"I can't"

"Unhook him!" Welsh ordered. Someone did.

The light, which was still red, flickered out as flak destroyed it. With no light we couldn't know when to jump. Not that it stopped the Lieutenant.

"Go!"

Luz kicked his radio-filled leg bag out the door and followed right after it. I got to the door, kicked out my own leg bag, and leaped into the night without pause, despite knowing we were flying too low and going too fast.

I was jerked by the prop blast and felt the leg bag drag me down before the line snapped; I was barley in the air a few seconds after my chute opened before my feet hit the ground. Tingles went all the way up my spine. After the shock subsided I wrapped up my parachute and ditched it, my reserve, and my Mae West life preserver near a large pile of rocks. My frazzled nerves put me on edge. Despite having known that the DZ would be off, it could never prepare me enough for tracking where I would land.

I could hear gunfire in the distance so I knew I had to be near a German outpost. Not like that helped me much – I needed to find a sign or land marker, something that could give me a physical location. Hopefully I could find someone else too, preferably an American. I didn't see where my leg bag landed so I only had my rifle, pistol, a couple of grenades, and a knife. I had a feeling the few extra packs of ammo I also had stashed on my person would go fast if I ran into resistance.

Against my better judgment, with rifle in hand, I started trekking in the direction of the gunfire. Because gunfire meant people, and people meant hopefully figuring out where the fuck I was. Leaves crackled under my boots no matter how lightly I tried to step. I kept my eyes and ears open for anything or anyone that could be following me. I tried to ignore the planes crashing in the distance.

It was maybe five minutes later when I heard footsteps behind me. Following me. There was no way for me to know if they were friend or foe so I had to be careful how I played this. With my rifle in the patrol carry position it was easy for me to slip my hand from the trigger up to the clicker tied around my neck. Without stopping I gave one click on it – * **click-clack*** \- and waited for a reply.

The steps faltered then stopped. I stopped too and my finger went back to the trigger before I heard it.

* **click-clack – click-clack** *

I turned and squinted in the darkness. Two figures emerged and I met them half way.

"What're your names, boys?" I asked when I got close enough.

"Private Joseph Oliver, Sergeant," the tall brunette on the left said.

"Private Walter Summers," the red-head introduced himself. "We're from the 82nd. Found each other when we first landed."

I nodded. "Alright Oliver, Summers, have you seen any land markers since you landed?" I asked.

"No Sergeant."

"Shit," I muttered. "Then we need to keep going that way," I pointed in the direction the gunfire was still coming from. "I think there's a town, and the sooner we find out which one the sooner we can get the hell outta Dodge."

"Are you sure going towards the enemy is a good idea, Sarge?" Summers, who looked doubtful, asked.

"It is undoubtedly a bad idea," I deadpanned. "But it's our only option right now. Let's go."

We stayed just inside the trees that lined the road I had been following before. The trees soon opened up into what probably used to be a quaint little town. I gave the signal to keep moving.

We made it across town in a matter of minutes. The gunfire was closer than ever. I looked around the corner of the building we were pressed against and saw the German gun.

"Four-manned gun, 10 o'clock, twenty yards," I informed Oliver and Summers. "We're going to wait until they reload before we go out in the open."

I listened in trepidation for the reload. When it came I gave the order, "Go now!" in a whisper.

We all but sprinted across the gap.

"Wer ist da? Halt!"

Shots were fired. The three of us dove behind the next building.

I leaned around the corner and let off a few rounds. "Get a grenade out of my pack!" I ordered.

"Got it!"

Concrete shattered by my head. I jerked away. "Oliver help me with covering fire! Summers, lob it when you get the chance!"

Oliver stood over my crouched position and started firing with me. I pulled back to reload. Summers saw his opportunity then and threw the grenade into the Kraut's position.

When the explosion settled I peaked around the corner again. There wasn't any movement. I signaled for the guys to follow me.

We walked cautiously towards the smoking bunker. When I got there everyone was dead. I sighed in relief, "We're clear."

"Damn Krauts," Oliver growled.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Let's go, we still need to figure out what town this is."

We walked away, myself leading, and made it to some foliage in the corner of a crossroad on the edge of town.

"Sarge, look," Oliver pointed to the right. There was a road marker.

I told them to stay there while I cautiously made may way over. The sign was small and covered in dirt. I whipped away what I could and managed to make out 'Carquebut.'

I ran back to cover. I pulled out the map that was shoved down my shirt and retrieved my compass from a pocket. I didn't have a flashlight so I had to go by the light of the moon. Luckily it was bright enough that I could see the map.

"We're here," I pointed to the town over to the left. "Sainte-Marie-du-Mont is about 8 kilometers East."

"The objective of the 82nd is near Sainte-Mère-Église," Summers pointed out. "We need to go North." He pointed to the town on my map.

I nodded slowly. "I guess we're splitting up then."

"It looks that way," Summers said. "Thanks for getting us this far, Sergeant."

"Not a problem, boys." I gave them a smile. "Stay safe."

They nodded back at me. "You do the same."

We made our way out of the foliage and started on our separate ways down the crossroad; they went left while I went right. Now all I had to do was walk 8 kilometers in less than three hours if I wanted to get to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont before the beach landings started.

No big deal.

* * *

I had been walking for maybe 45 minutes before I came across the, thankfully American held, town of Les Forges. There were men from what seemed like every regiment and battalion collected here.

I moved into a courtyard and sat down against one of the buildings. Now was the time, if any, to rest and eat. The biscuits that came in the one k-ration pack I had on my person tasted like cardboard. It was good to know that even some 60 years from now nothing about that would change. I washed the taste down with water from my canteen.

"Drew?" someone called from across the courtyard.

I looked up in surprise. "Lieb!" I ran over to him and clapped him on the back. "Good to see a friendly face. I haven't seen anyone from Easy since I landed."

"You're the first I've seen too," he said with a smile.

We walked over to where I was sitting before. "I landed in Carquebut just west of here. I've been making my way to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont since." I tossed him the rest of my uneaten biscuits.

He nodded in thanks. "No idea where I landed, just started walking and found this place. Word around here though is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont is crawling with Krauts."

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah, I think I heard 2nd battalion is linking up somewhere called Le Grand Chemin?" he tried to pronounce the french name. "Gotta map?"

I pulled my map out of my jacket and opened it. "Les Forges," I pointed to it. "And Le Grand Chemin is..." I searched the map before I spotted it, "here, just a couple kilometers due North of Sainte-Marie-du-Mont."

"Still got a ways to go, huh?" he gave a dry laugh.

I stowed the map back in my jacket. "Two hours, I'd say. Maybe less if we don't run into trouble."

"Please," Lieb scoffed. "Don't kid yourself Drew _–_ we _are_ the trouble."

"Damn right," I agreed. "So you wanna get moving? We may be able to get there before the beach landings start if we're lucky."

"Yeah."

We got up and dusted ourselves off, not that it helped much.

I looked Lieb over. "Do you have a weapon?"

He scowled. "Just my knife. I lost everything else when I lost that fucking leg bag."

"Here," I pulled out my pistol and handed it to him. I reached into my musette bag and pulled out a pack of ammo and handed that over too.

"Thanks," he said as he took the weapon from my hands.

I just winked at him. "Don't mention it. Let's get going, shall we?"

We left the courtyard and continued East. We followed just off the main road for about half an hour before we came to a fork. I checked my map again.

"Looks like if we go right it'll lead us directly to Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. So that's a no," I muttered. "If we take the left one it'll lead us through Boutteville and North of Le Grand Chemin."

"So left?" Lieb asked.

I thought about it. "No. I don't want to risk going through a German occupied town if I can help it. We'll go in the middle and cut through the farm lands."

"We'll be out in the open!" he argued.

"We'll be out in the open no matter what we do," I argued back. "We'll stick to the hedgerows separating the fields," I amended.

He gave me a look. "You better not get me killed, Drew."

"I'd die before I let anything happen to you or the others, Joe."

With that said, I led us into the muddy farm land ahead. It was simple enough to follow the hedgerows across the vast area. They were thick enough to give us the cover we needed. I don't know what was looking down upon us but we were blessed that we didn't run into anyone else, German or otherwise.

Lieb and I made quiet conversation while we walked. It was mostly us griping about, well, everything. I gave my own reassurances to him that it would all turn out okay.

When it seemed like the farms would never give way we stumbled onto a road.

"How long have we been walking Lieb?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Hour and a half maybe."

"This has got to be it then," I told him. "If we go right we should hit Le Grand Chemin soon."

Just then a piercing whistle cut through the air followed by an explosion.

"The landings have started."

"Really, I couldn't tell."

I glared at him. "Don't make me hit you."

We came to the town a few minutes later. Most of the men we passed were from 2nd battalion – a few were from 1st and 3rd. Granted, that still wasn't a lot of people but it was something at least. I tried to find someone I actually knew.

As if hearing my thoughts, the aforementioned someone I actually knew walked out the door of a building up ahead.

"Buck!" I called out.

He looked over and smiled when I waved. Lieb and I made our way over.

I shook Buck's hand and clapped him on the back. "Two more reporting for duty, sir."

"Glad to see you made it Masters, Liebgott," he greeted.

"Is anyone else from Easy here?" Lieb asked.

Buck nodded. "Petty, Plesha, and Hendrix are the only ones I've seen. Plus you two now. Have either of you seen Lieutenant Meehan or anyone from his stick?" he asked hopefully.

"No," I said. "We've hardly seen anyone, but..." I paused and swallowed. I had to tell him. "I... I saw Lieutenant Meehan's plane... I saw it go down, sir. At least, I think it was his plane."

' _For fuck's sake, I know his plane went down whether I saw it or not!_ '

I saw Buck's eyes go wide. "You're shitting me, right?"

I winced. "I'm afraid not."

"Fuck."

I just nodded.

"Alright... Alright, you and Liebgott go get some R and R. I'll deal with this."

Joe and I saluted and left him.

"Did you really see Meehan's plane go down," Joe asked, just to be sure.

"Yeah," I looked down.

"Fuck."

I just nodded.

* * *

 _Not a lot of action in this chapter, I know. But I'm saving all that for the coming chapters because those are the really big action-y battles, as you know._

 _Also, you will not believe the amount of time I spent looking at Normandy on Google Maps for this._

 _***LAST CHANCE TO CAST YOUR VOTE!*** Malarkey or Speirs? Neither? Both?_ _I'm 90% sure it's happening next chapter. Yeet._

 _Let's be real though, I'll probably end up flipping a coin because I'm an indecisive little shit._

 _Other than that, I love you guys and it makes me so so so happy when I get an email saying someone reviewed because I'm like... people read this? And they like it? I can write?_

 _But seriously, you're beautiful people._

 _Until next chapter. Au Revoir._


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